


What We Have, Is What We Hold

by Henry_Sturges_to_Henry_Lincoln



Series: Just Keep Holding Onto Me [2]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Holding On, M/M, True Love, Withstanding, holding on to love, together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:25:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 42,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5188595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Henry_Sturges_to_Henry_Lincoln/pseuds/Henry_Sturges_to_Henry_Lincoln
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The continuation of my Newtmas version of Maze Runner!!! Scorch Trials- following Newt and Thomas' strong love through hardships and pain a-plenty. This work will follow the boys through their many perils in their journeys and adventures throughout the Scorch, and show just how strong true love holds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> IT IS HERE. So sorry for yet ANOTHER delay-- State soccer game at my school tonight- those amazing girls won x3  
> Anyways, the moment many have been waiting for-- THE SCORCH TRIALS. 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Her voice awoke him. 

'Hey, are you asleep?' 

Thomas shifted, but stopped when he remembered his head was on Newt's chest. He didn't reply right away; he felt so much better now. The pain was, at least for now, so much less deep. He laid there and listened to Newt's steady heartbeat before scooting up and pulling the cold little boy against his own chest and wrapping the covers around him. He smiled down at Newt's sleeping face for a moment before answering. 

'Teresa? What time is it?' 

'No idea,' she replied, 'But I can't sleep. I only got to doze off for a couple hours- I was hoping you were awake, I'm so bored.' 

'Not like I could have stayed sleeping when I hear someone's voice in my head.' Thomas replied jokingly. 

'Whatever. I just hate that they separated me from you guys.'

Thomas understood why it upset her, but he also understood why they had. 'Guess they thought you needed protecting.' 

'Yeah, I guess, but still- I'm just on the other side of the common room, that wouldn't exactly protect me from you savages.' she said so sarcastically, Thomas could feel it. 

Thomas let out a small chuckle, in which caused Newt to shift. Thomas mentally kicked himself and held him close. Of all that he had been through, all he'd lost, all the pain- he still had this; this sleeping little bundle on his chest, face still in blissful sleep. A certain fatigue settled, and he and Teresa didn't speak anymore, though their connection stayed. He could feel her presence, and he missed his best friend, but also didn't feel apart from her. Thomas, yet again, found himself wishing he could do this communication with Newt. That'd be perfect. 

It was long before warm, soft sleep crept over him. And for the first time in a long time, he slipped into a dream. 

There was a woman sitting beside him. And he was very young- lying in bed with a blanket tucked over him. But the woman- she was beautiful. Even if she wasn't stunning, she was one of the most loveliest things Thomas had ever seen. Her long brown hair twirled subtly in a very similar way as Thomas'. Her sad eyes give away her fake smile. 

"I don't know why they chose you," she said softly, "but I know you're special somehow. Never forget that, and never forget how much... I love you." a tear ran down her face. 

"Are you going to be crazy like all those people on TV, mommy? And like Daddy?" Thomas- this young version- asked. 

This is his mother... It's Mommy. She reached out and ran her fingers through Thomas' hair, "don't you worry about that, sweetie. You won't be here to see it." 

There's no more smile on her face. 

***

The dream disappears too fast, like someone has yanked a rug from right under his feet. Thomas awoke and sighed. He wanted to fall back to sleep, fall deeper into his memories- that was what it was, it had to be. 

Later- how much later he didn't know- Teresa spoke to him: 

'Tom, something's wrong.'


	2. Chapter Two/Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No school today so I slept in until eleven, lol. I feel so well rested... How is everyone else's Veterans Day? (assuming yours is also today, haha). 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Those words started something, something bad. He tried to wake up from his dream, but suddenly his slumber became a dark cage. He couldn't shake it, he couldn't get away from it. 

'Thomas!' 

She screamed it and his head rattled with the piercing cry. Still, he could only sleep. And they were safe now, it was just a dream. They were fine now. Relaxing, he let himself fall back into his sleep. 

There were other sounds; thumps, shattering, shouting, metal clanging against metal. Finally, finally, something felt wrong. This wasn't how it should be, this was too real. He fought to wake up, to free himself from the heavy hands of sleep that pinned him. Then something was taken from him, a part of him. Teresa. 

'Teresa! Teresa, are you there!?' he screamed out. 

Nothing. A nothingness he could feel. She was gone. Finally, reality swept in. Terrified, Thomas shot up into a sitting position. Newt was off the bed, shaking his shoulder. Newt looked relieved when Thomas sat up, "bloody hell, you wouldn't wake up!" he had to yell over the utter chaos. Everything was crazy and Thomas got to his feet, shocked. 

Every Glader in the room was yelling and running. The sounds of animals being tortured were everywhere. Thomas looked to one of the windows and almost stumbled back onto the bed, hid there. The window was broken, and there was a man on the other side of the barred window. His eyes were crazy and bloodshot, sores and scars covered his face, he had no hair- only terrible blotches where it had once been. "I'm a Crank! I'm a bloody Crank!" the insane man yelled. 

Then he started shaking back forth, spittle flying, "Kill me! Kill me! Kill me! Kill me!..." 

 

"They're everywhere!" Minho shouted from beside Thomas, startling him. 

Thomas was finally starting to get his bearings. He reached over and snatched Newt's hand, pulling him close, "have any gotten in yet?" he asked, Newt's presence calming his racing heart a bit. 

"None of 'em have gotten in, all those windows are barred." Minho said with a nod. 

"We gotta try to get out of here," Newt said, "all this buggin' noise is drivin' me nuts. Let's round up the others and try to get through that freakin' door." 

Thomas nodded. Minho and Newt walked out, waving their arms to collect Gladers. Thomas frowned, wanting to hold Newt's hand more than ever. Thomas followed, doing his best not to look at the windows. 'Teresa?' he tried again, 'are you okay? What happened?' 

He got no reply, and he was starting to get worried that something really, really bad had happened to her. Why else wouldn't she answer? He didn't have time to stress now. Well, not about that anyway. He had Newt to watch over and "Cranks" trying to eat them. He just hoped she would be talking again soon. 

Thomas rushed over to Newt when all the Gladers were huddled up behind Newt and Minho at the door. Thomas found Newt's hand and Newt looked at him, "You okay?" 

Thomas nodded, "you?" 

"Fine, but you are one heavy sleeper," he said with a little grin. Suddenly, Thomas knew they were going to be okay. At least for a little while. 

Minho was pulling at the brass handle to no avail. Locked. Newt gave the door a shot next, not a thing. "Let's break the bloody handle off." 

After Minho complained for a moment, a short boy made his way through the crowd and handed Newt a fire extinguisher. Newt nodded and held it over his head. Everyone grew tense and silent, waiting to see what waited on the other side. Thomas made sure he was right behind Newt. If something bad was coming through that door, it sure as hell wasn't getting Newt. 

Newt brought the red cylinder down on the handle, putting all his weight into it. There was a loud crack and a deep crunch. Newt slammed it back into the handle three more times before it clattered to the ground. The door immediately inched outward a couple inches. Newt froze, staring at the strip of darkness as if he expected his death to come strolling in. Thomas actually had the same fear and put a hand on Newt. 

Nothing happened. Newt and Thomas exchanged glances that took Thomas somewhat by surprise; somehow from Newt's eyes he felt as if he had just discussed with him going through the open door. And he knew they were. As Newt handed the extinguisher back, he realized that even though they didn't have some special ability to communicate like he and Teresa had, they didn't need it. They knew each other so well they might as well have had it since day one. 

Minho kicked the door all the way open. It swung open with an eerie creak and the darkness stared them in the face. "Shuck it," Minho said, the slightest hint of fear in his voice, "I'll go first." 

Minho disappeared into the darkness. Newt looked at Thomas and held out his hand to him. Thomas took it and they followed Minho. The light behind them might as well have been off, doing nothing to illuminate the room. A horrible stench lingered heavily in the air, making Thomas cringe. Somewhere ahead, Minho yelped. "Woah, careful. Something's... heading from the ceiling." 

Newt grunted at his side and the sound of metal sliding across metal accompanied. Newt's hands was ripped from his and he panicked for a moment before Newt spoke up, "table. Watch out for tables." 

Thomas stood there, not sure what to do without Newt's hand. "I'm gonna go get the lights," Newt said after a moment, "I think I remember where they are." 

Minho made a disgusted noise, and before Thomas could ask what happened, he walked into something. Hard, awkwardly shaped, there seemed to be fabric on it. "Found it!" Newt exclaimed. 

A few clicks later and the entire room was bathed in sharp light. Thomas rubbed his eyes, stumbling backwards and hitting another hanging object. Thomas squinted, letting his eyes adjust. Then he saw it. 

Throughout the room, there were people. Dead people. Hanging from the ceiling. Thomas stumbled back onto his butt with a gasp. These people... 

"Tommy," Newt murmured, sounding like a terrified little kid. Thomas could hear him approaching, frightened. 

Thomas held out his arm and Newt scurried into it, looking around in terror, "Are these...?" 

"Yes." Thomas muttered, jaw shaking as he formed the word. 

These were their rescuers.


	3. Chapter Four/Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you guys! Oh and I was looking at Finding Something Here- and it's reached 2k!! That's crazy... :D 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Newt helped Thomas stand and they did what they could to keep their gazes from the dead strung up like sick decorations. 

They staggered away from them, towards the light switches. Minho met them there. Other Gladers were making their way into the room. Several gagged, more puked. Thomas screamed out to Teresa, maybe she saw something. Maybe she was hiding, but she didn't answer. Thomas looked at Newt, "We've got to find Teresa, I can't reach her." 

Newt looked worried and nodded, "do you know where she could be?" 

Thomas nodded, "Actually... yeah." he said, taking Newt's hand and heading across the common room to the room she had mentioned. 

Newt yelled for someone to go get the fire extinguisher, and Thomas and Newt reached the door. Thomas tried it, no avail. As they waited for the fire extinguisher, he noticed a clear, plastic sign beside the door: 

"Teresa Agnes. Group A, subject A1.  
The Betrayer." 

Thomas didn't know what to think of that, and by the look on Newt's face, he didn't either. So they just didn't. Minho asked, though, but with no solid answer, Thomas simply took the extinguisher when Winston presented it to him and began banging on the door handle. It took a couple smashes, and off came the handle. The door popped open an inch or two. Thomas took the handle and pulled it all the way open, letting danger have a chance to show itself if it existed. Apparently it didn't. 

The room was lighted and Thomas and Newt exchanged glances, Thomas going in first. One of the four beds was a mess, crumpled sheets and disorganized blanket, but no Teresa. 

"Teresa?" Newt called, looking around as if she could've hidden somewhere in the blantantly open. 

The two froze when a toilet flushed from the bathroom door. Thomas and Newt let out a relieved breath in perfect unison. "We need to have a Gathering once she's done," Minho said, "and it smells good in here, so let's do it here." he added. 

Thomas and Newt sat beside each other on the bed, Newt nodding. Minho nodded, "I'll go get everyone in here." he said, turning and walking out. 

Newt rested his head on Thomas' shoulder. Thomas reached over and rested his hand on Newt's thigh. They didn't say anything, just sat and waited. Things kind of sucked, especially since they had just been safe the night before and know, it had been stolen right away. But at least Thomas had Newt, still. Things would be okay. 

Gladers started shuffling in the room. 

Then there was a click, the door of the bathroom turning. He stepped forward, Newt did the same, both preparing to wrap her in a hug. But they stopped dead in their tracks, Thomas herding Newt behind him, shocked. 

This wasn't Teresa. It was a boy. 

He was small, soft features- shockingly innocent. "Who are you?" Thomas snapped. 

"Who am I?" the boy responded, sounding baffled, "who are you?" he retorted sharply. 

Newt took a step forward. Thomas wished that just once when he was trying to keep Newt behind him and away from possible danger, that the stubborn boy would stay. Though this boy didn't exactly seem like he could take Newt. "Don't bloody mess with Thomas," he growled, "with us." He corrected after a moment, "there's a lot more of us than you." 

The boy looked almost intimidated, but barely. He folded his arms, "Aris, my name's Aris. What else do you want to know?" 

Thomas didn't like the way Aris held himself as if he were higher than Newt. Did Aris have absolutely no idea what kind of perfection he was having the honor to speak to? "How'd you get here? Where's the girl who was here?" Thomas asked, stepping in front of Newt with his chest puffed out. Thomas had a bit more of intimidating form than Newt did and if this kid thought he was going to be talking down to Newt he'd have a problem or two. 

"Girl? It's just me in here, been that way since last night." the kid explained, seeming just a bit less of an asshole. 

Thomas could feel his anger rising, and the kid must have picked up on it. He raised his hands defensively, "Look man, I have no freaking clue what you're talking about. They put me in here last night and I got up like five minutes ago to pee; never heard of a Teresa in my life." 

Thomas had a hard time not liking something about this kid. He seemed much better now that he was starting to catch on that this was serious. "Who put you in here?" Newt asked after he and Thomas shared another look, Thomas knew he'd ask that. 

"I don't know man, a bunch of rescuers or something. Said everything would be okay now." the kid explained throwing his hands up. 

Newt looked at Thomas, dumbfounded, and Thomas felt the exact same way. "Rescued you from... What?" Thomas asked. 

Aris looked miserable for a moment, sighed, then looked up at Thomas, then Newt, then back at Thomas, "from the Maze." 

 

Whatever disdain Thomas had for the kid was gone. That look on his face was proof enough of what he was saying; he'd been in the Maze- a Maze- and been through some awful stuff. "Maybe you should sit, Aris," he said, trying out the name, "I think we have a lot to talk about." 

Aris suddenly looked worried. "What do you mean? Who are you guys?" he asked quickly. 

"The Maze. The Grievers. WICKED. You name it, we've dealt with it all." Thomas said with a slight shrug. 

"You're lying," Aris said softly, shaking his head. 

"We're not," Newt said this time, "Tommy's right. We need to talk about some things." 

Aris looked at Newt and sucked in a breath, his small frame taking the air in deeply, he looked like he might say something, but Minho butted in, "Who's this shank?" 

"Minho, meet Aris." Thomas said, "Aris, Minho." 

"Look," Newt said, ignoring Minho's confusion, "let's take down these top beds and move 'em around the move, get everyone a place to sit, and talk about this." 

Everyone took a seat on the mattresses once they were aligned in a circle in the middle of the room. Thomas and Newt sat right up against each other and right across from Aris. Newt leaned over and left a tired kiss on Thomas' jaw as everyone took their places. Thomas smiled and put his hand on Newt's knee, turning and kissing Newt's nose. 

Aris cleared his throat, "Woah." he said. 

Thomas blushed a little. A Glader Thomas didn't know the name of nudged Aris with his elbow, "get used to it. They're too okay with PDA." 

Newt didn't seem to care, "alright, let's get on with the bloody storytellin'. I wanna find somethin' to eat afterwards." 

Thomas became aware of his own hunger when Newt mentioned his own. "Good that," Minho said, "Aris, talk to us." 

As Aris talked, the more unreal this seemed. Apparently, Aris had been put into a Maze of all girls. He was the trigger, and the last Greenie. He had a telepathic gift with the previous newcomer, a girl. Basically, Aris' maze was a complete gender bent version of their own. He went into a coma, woke up right when things got bad, Doors stopped closing, they made the decision to go into the Maze and go into the Griever Hole, they went through and made it to WICKED. Only difference was so terrible-- The girl Aris had the connection with died. 

It made Thomas wonder. If the girl was killed just like Chuck, then did that mean that Thomas was meant to die? That Chuck turned WICKED's own plans on them? Thomas' heart broke. 'Oh Chuck... You should've stayed still.' Thomas reeled in his emotions, as to not cry right there. 

Suddenly, something happened. Something Thomas had wondered as well. 'Can you hear me?' 

Thomas shuddered. It was Aris in his head; and it felt intrusive. But he nodded, 'yes.' 

Newt gave them a look and Thomas nodded, "he can do it." 

Newt looked at Aris, but Aris' eyes were on Thomas. 'You best protect her. And him. I lost my best friend, Thomas. And it's bad. Hold onto her, and hold onto him.' 

Thomas frowned. 

"It's so hard.' Aris continued. 'To live without them.' 

Thomas reached over and took Newt's hand tight in his. He was going to protect Newt. He needed to find Teresa. 

He wasn't going to take Aris' words lightly.


	4. AUTHOR'S NOTE!!!!

I have to leave for school right now, guys, but the chapter will be up when I get home!!!! SO sorry for not updating yesterday! We had this HUGE storm- like, they were closing down roads and telling people to stay in their houses. And my internet just would not connect!! So I am deeply sorry-- I thought I should let you guys know. Next chapter will be the first thing I do when I get home!!!!


	5. Chapter Six/Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such delays; like I said, crazy storm. And let's not even discuss the CRAPPY week I've had. And I'm pretty sure it's gonna stay kinda crappy for awhile :/ But that will NOT stop me from updating my lovlies!!! 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Aris' story was definitely crazy. But Thomas didn't doubt for a second that it was real. For whatever reason, Thomas grasped Newt's hand harder. 

"Hey," one of the Gladers Thomas didn't know by name said, pointing at Aris, "what's that on the side of your neck there?" 

Aris tried to look, "What?" 

Thomas saw the dark splotch the boy was referring to. He and Newt looked at each other, then crawled over to take a look. "Here, let me look," Newt said, motioning for the boy to turn his way. Newt grabbed the collar of Aris' shirt and tugged it down. 

"It's a tattoo," Newt said, looking surprised. 

"What's it say?" Minho asked as he stood and started over to take a look for himself. 

Thomas was too curious as well and positioned himself behind Newt, holding Newt's hips so he wouldn't move over and block his vision. Tattooed on Aris' next where as follows; 

Property of WICKED. Group B, Subject B1. The Partner. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Minho asked. 

"Well what does it say!?" Aris asked, reaching back to run his fingers along the skin. "It wasn't there before!"

Newt repeated the words to him. Everyone had plenty of questions, directed at Aris. Thomas thought that was a bit silly, clearly the boy had no idea the tattoo even existed, much less the meaning. Minho huffed, not believing a word Aris said as everyone returned their places on the mattresses. Then Thomas noticed the words on Minho's neck, "You've got one, too!" Thomas exclaimed. 

Minho started moving around, trying to somehow make it so he could see his own neck, "What's it shuckin' say!?" 

Thomas read the words aloud; "Property of WICKED. Group A, Subject A7. The Leader." 

Minho turned around to look Thomas dead in the eye, shocked. "Woah..." 

And then the frenzy began. Kids started checking one another, reading them aloud. All were from Group A, all said Property of WICKED, and all kids were a "subject". 

"Tommy," Newt said, tugging on Thomas' sleeve, stealing Thomas' attention, "what's mine say?" 

Thomas turned Newt and pulled his shirt collar down, "You're Subject A5, the Glue." 

"The Glue?" Newt asked, rubbing his neck as if that would erase the words. 

"Yeah," Thomas said thoughtfully, "probably because you're kind of like the glue that holds us all together; here, read mine." 

Newt took a brief look, then backed off a bit, hesitating. 

"Well?" Thomas asked. 

"You're Subject A2..." 

"And?" 

Newt looked up at him, absolute dread etched into his face, "it doesn't call you anything. It just says... 'To be killed by Group B.'" 

 

Thomas didn't have a chance to comment on that terrifying statement before a blaring bell started tolling. It sounded familiar; and images of watching Newt checking sleeping Gladers, trying to steal glances at the blond boy past Alby, and kicking Chuck as he teased him all came to his head. It was the bell from the Maze. And it wasn't stopping. 

Everyone had their hands firmly pressed against their ears, some wandering in search of something around the room with a pained look on their face. Thomas didn't blame them, the sound was awful. Newt gripped Thomas' arm, "It's the bloody Newbie alarm!" he shouted as well as he could over the noise. 

"I know!" 

"Well... Why?" 

Thomas shrugged; he couldn't think of a damn thing to explain this, not after the weird things that had been going on the past couple days. Thomas just stood with Newt, both of them waiting with an annoyed air around them for the damned ringing to stop. From the corner of his eye, Thomas noticed Frypan walking towards the door, about to push it open. 

"Wait!" Thomas shouted, heading that way. 

"Why?" Frypan asked over the noise, pausing just as he was going to push the door open. 

"I don't know-- I just. I feel like something's probably happening that we don't want to be a part of," Thomas replied, not exactly sure why he stopped him. His instincts told him to, and, so far, those had been pretty accurate. 

"Yeah, and maybe we need to get out of here!" Frypan said, pushing the door open without further discussion. But it didn't open. 

Frypan paused, looked over the door- with its missing handle it should've opened. Frypan leaned into it, his full weight, grunting with effort. Nothing, still. Frypan started freaking out a bit, but Thomas didn't want to yell anymore. He was tired and just tired of this- his head hurt and he wanted the ringing to stop. 

Then the alarm stopped. 

The silence that followed was heavy, buzzing with its own sound. Newt was the first one to speak, "don't tell me there's more bloody Newbies." 

The slightest creak made Thomas look sharply at the door. It had crept open just a couple inches. Darkness was the only thing that peeked through the slit- someone had turned off the lights outside. 

"Guessin' they want us to go out there now," Minho muttered, already heading that way. 

"If zombies start eating my leg, save me." Minho said with a nod to Thomas and a smile. 

"Deal," Thomas said. 

Minho nodded again and pushed the door open. The entire common area was bathed in darkness. Minho stepped out. Thomas thought about following Minho, but when Newt's unsure touch found Thomas' arm, Thomas knew he wasn't going anywhere. Minho made his way through the darkness just fine, though, and a couple clicks later- lights washed the darkness away. 

Thomas had no idea how he didn't realize the awful smell had vanished. But now he knew. 

The bodies. They were gone.


	6. Chapter Eight/Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one before I head to bed :) 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Thomas sucked in a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. 

Newt limped past him until he stood in the very center of the room, Thomas trailing after him. "This is impossible," Newt muttered, turning in a slow circle to take it all in, "not enough time for someone to slip in here, take all those bodies down and get out of here without a bloody trace. There's just no way." 

Minho wandered back to Newt, "you're right..." he said. "We were only in there for a little while- and these doors are locked from the shuckin' inside..." 

"Not to mention getting rid of the smell," Thomas added, "it should at least be lingering." 

"Hey," Winston said, "those crazy people quit screaming." 

Yet another thing Thomas somehow missed- silence. Soon everyone was wandering out of Aris' room, taking in the clean, corpse-free room with awe. "No way!" Minho shouted from their room. 

Thomas and Newt rushed that way, the curiosity too much. Thomas took Newt's hand and moved in front of him as they headed that way- weird things were going on here and he wasn't going to let anything happen to Newt. When they walked into their room, Thomas and Newt both stopped dead in their tracks, the shock anchoring them to the doorway. As if going in any further would disturb some barrier and destroy the image. 

The room looked basically the same as they had left moments ago; except the daunting, red-bricked walls over the window. From the outside. Minho stood on a bed, pressing his palm against the sturdy surface. Nothing. It was set, the cement that hadn't been there before dry already. 

The next half hour was a haze. Thomas and Newt mainly remained in the room, trying to calm down or make sense of it all. But Gladers were milling about, searching the place for any other changes. The biggest one was the new plaque by Aris' room: Aris Jones, Group B. Subject B1. The Partner.

It made a certain worry firmly settle in Thomas' stomach like stones. Teresa was gone from here, there was no doubt about that now. But just how gone was what Thomas worried about. What if they killed Thomas' best friend? He pushed it down, down where he pushed the remaining pain that needed to be let out from Chuck. There'd be a time and place, like the first night with Newt, for spilling it to him. But for now, it wasn't the time. 

But Newt brought it back up. 

The boys were sitting on a mattress when he did. Newt had his knees tucked up against his chest and his hands holding the tip of his shoes- he looked so tired. Thomas sat with his legs off the bed. "Maybe you should try talkin' to her." Newt said randomly. 

Thomas looked over at him, "I've tried, trust me." 

"Things changed, Tommy. Maybe try it out now? It couldn't hurt." 

Newt was right. Thomas nodded and gave it another shot; 'Teresa?' A pause. 'Teresa?' A longer pause, he was starting to get upset. 'Teresa!' he shouted through his mind, 'Teresa, where are you!? Please answer me, we're all worried sick about you!' 

'Get out of my head!' 

Her voice startled him. He shuddered and Newt's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything. 'Teresa?' Thomas urged. 

'Whoever you are, get out of my shuck head!' she was answering her. He didn't doubt it. 

'Teresa,' he said mentally, 'please, Teresa. It's me! It's Thomas. Where are you?' 

'Shut up!' Her voice was strong and hurt Thomas' head, 'Just shut up and leave me alone!' 

'Teresa...' Thomas was at a loss, 'what's wrong?' 

'Leave me alone or I'll hunt you down and slit your throat, I swear it.' 

And with that, the connection was severed like a thin string being snipped with scissors. "Well?" Newt asked after a moment. 

Thomas sighed and shook his head. He scooted over to Newt and Newt took his hands, "are you okay, Tommy?" 

"She... I don't think she knows me," Thomas said, shaking his head, "something happened. She said she didn't know me." 

Newt frowned, "do you think...?" 

Thomas nodded. They talked no more of this. Instead, they laid back. Thomas could feel Newt's body shifting slowly, the muscles under the skin seeming to strain with every movement as the boys settled. When that feat was accomplished, Thomas was positioned behind Newt with his arms hugging Newt's arms and chest from behind. Thomas' face fit perfectly into the crook of Newt's neck and he shut his eyes. He should say something, he knew that. But he didn't know what to say. 

For once, Newt was the one with the way with words; "Hey Tommy? Things suck right now. But I love you." 

"I love you, too." Thomas replied. Just ten words and Thomas felt better than he had in such a long, long time. Newt's words had an effect on him like nothing else. Once again, he was moved. Inspired. Things were going to be okay- as long as he had Newt, things were going to be just fine. 

Amazingly, those words also carried Thomas into sleep. 

***

He's a little older this time, maybe seven. People in strange coats peeking their heads at him, momentarily blocking out the blinding light above him before disappearing wherever they're coming from. He's so scared, so scared. He can only hear some of the conversation, just pieces. And they scare him more:   
"We'll have to cut deeper."   
"Can his brain- can her brain- handle this?"   
"He might die."   
"Or worse. He might live." 

"Or he might save us. Save us all." 

 

 

When he woke up, Thomas had an odd headache. It just felt more like pressure than pain. "Mornin' sunshine." Newt's voice greeted him and he felt a little better. 

"How long's it been?" Thomas asked, sitting up tiredly. 

"Couple hours," he said, judging by the darkness around his eyes he didn't sleep too heavily. 

"Do we have any food?" Thomas asked. 

"No, but I don't think they'll let us die. It kind of reminds me when they sent us- the first group- to the Glade. It was just me, Alby, Minho and some others." Newt said, rubbing those lovely eyes. 

Thomas was surprisingly intrigued, "How does this remind you of that?" 

Newt's gaze fell on the bed, but somewhere much farther than that- some place only he could see. "We all just kind of woke up in the middle of the day. We were around the Box, the thing was closed. We obviously had no memories, and there were about thirty of us. Somehow we managed to quit panickin' and pull things together pretty quick. We had no idea what to do, but we knew we wanted to live. So we pulled ourselves together and built. Had a runnin' farm in just a day or two." 

Thomas had to admit, he had always wondered how the start of the Glade had been, "did the Creators have everything there already? Crops and animals and all that?" 

Newt nodded, "Yeah, but it took forever for things to work smoothly. Lots of trial and error." 

"So... how does this remind you of that?" Thomas asked. 

Newt brought that striking gaze back up to him; his brown eyes were so damn sharp, like a puzzle that Thomas had all the pieces to but would never solve. Some blessed trial he'd never conquer. 

"I guess we just knew there was somethin'- a purpose. And we had no other choice if we wanted to live, so we worked." Newt explained. 

Thomas smiled a little. "But I hope somethin' starts happenin' soon, I'm bloody hungry." Newt added. 

***

Hunger. 

Three full days of napping, cuddling, shoveling water down their throats, occasionally showering and more sleeping; it was getting truly, and utterly unbearable. Everyone was pale, sunken eyes with dark circles, just laying around in their beds limply. It broke Thomas' heart to see Newt in such a state and not be able to do anything about it, but Thomas knew he looked no better. He certainly didn't feel better. 

Soon, no one spoke. Words required so much energy. Sleeping, silence, water, and more sleeping. And the pain. Always there, always clawing, always reminding. 

"Tommy," Newt whispered out of the blue, "I think we're gonna die," he said, his words slurring. 

Thomas didn't respond, he couldn't. Instead, he focused his energy and placed his limp hand on Newt's limp hand. And then he fell asleep. 

 

"Thomas." 

It was Minho's voice. It was weak, but stronger than previous days. 

"Dude, wake up." 

Thomas opened his eyes. Things were blurred momentarily, but they focused. His eyes widened with what Minho was presenting to him. Red, shiny- the closest thing to heaven Thomas had seen in awhile. 

An apple. 

Thomas didn't even ask, just accepted and took a big bite. Thomas almost cried right there, almost sobbed, but that would distract him from eating. The flavor was like solidified joy filling his mouth, making him drool and making his eyes flutter shut. 

"You're gonna have it come right back up if you keep eatin' like that," Minho warned. 

Even still, he handed another apple to Thomas. Thomas tried to calm the beast in him, but after it had been clawing at his stomach for days- it wasn't exactly easy to control. "Where'd these come from?" 

"Big pile of food in the common room; showed up here while we were all sleeping apparently. Something else came too," Minho said, nodding towards the door, "why don't you go have a look." 

Thomas pushed himself off the bed and over Newt who, admittedly, Thomas hadn't noticed until now. He was sleeping lightly, and by the new color in his face, Thomas guessed he had already eaten. Thomas leaned over and kissed Newt's forehead before heading into the common room, already noticing a bit more strength in him. 

The room was filled with Gladers picking at a pile of fruits, vegetables, granola, and all sorts of stuff like that. But then he saw something that made that seem like something normal. Because just across the room, at a desk- clean shoes propped up on a clean desk- was a man, simply reading a book.


	7. Chapter Ten/Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if anyone in Paris reads my stuff, but if so; I pray to God that you're okay. Stay safe, okay? 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Thomas stood where he was for awhile. He looked around, no one seemed to even notice the man there. Just reading. 

The man was in white clad; white suit, white tie, white shirt, white shoes, white socks. 

For a moment, Thomas thought maybe no one else saw him, "Who is this guy?" Thomas called out to no one in particular. 

One of the boys at the pile of food turned to look at Thomas, he quickly finished his mouthful. "Won't tell us anything. Not until he's ready." The boy just shrugged and went back to his food. 

Thomas stared at the man. He was so thin. He couldn't be any sort of threat. Thomas wanted more food, but he knew he wouldn't be able to eat until he investigated. Thomas started towards the man at the desk. "Careful," one of the Gladers said, but it was too late. 

Ten feet away from the desk, Thomas slammed into some invisible force. His face hit it first, then the rest of him bumped into it. Shocked, Thomas took a half-step, half-stumble backwards. He rubbed his nose and focused, thinking maybe he missed a glass box or something. But there was nothing- no shine, no glare, nothing. And the man didn't even seem to notice Thomas. 

Thomas tried again, hands out this time. He made contact with the invisible, cold wall. It was smooth, it definitely felt like glass, but it couldn't be. There was nothing solid there. Thomas ran his hands along it, it formed a room around the reading man and his desk. No open spaces. Frustrated, he pounded on it. Some Gladers remarked at how they already tried that. 

Finally, the man showed the first sign of life despite his eyes flicking along words on his pages that Thomas had seen. He let out an exaggerated sigh and looked up at Thomas, "how many times must I say it? We still have forty-seven minutes before I am to initiate Phase Two of the Trials. Please leave me be, you've been given this time to eat and replenish. I highly suggest you take advantage of it." and with that, the man settled back into his book. 

Thomas was speechless. He turned and saw Minho as he walked into the common room, "this the other thing I needed to see?" 

Minho nodded, "Yep. Now eat, you look worse than Rat Man in there." 

Thomas pushed the whole odd incident behind him. He sat along the Gladers surrounding the pile of food and stuffed his face; an apple, an orange, a bag of mixed nuts, raisins. "Slim it, don't wanna be one of the dozens of shanks pukin' all over the place, do you?" Minho urged. 

Thomas nodded a bit. He stood up, relishing the feeling of a full tummy. Thomas wandered back into their dorm where Newt was starting to get up. Thomas walked over and knelt by the edge of the bed, smiling at him. Newt returned the smile and put his hand in Thomas' hair, "Hey." 

"Hey," Thomas replied, leaning forward and kissing him. 

When Thomas pulled away, Newt grinned dangerously- making Thomas' heart flutter- that spark was in Newt's eyes and Thomas couldn't wait to see what he was in for this time. Newt grabbed Thomas' face and yanked him forward, smashing their lips back together so hard it hurt a little, but Thomas didn't mind. Newt pulled away, just so they weren't lip-locked anymore, "we have too much energy now to not use it," Newt whispered, his lips brushing against Thomas' as he did so. 

Thomas chuckled softly as he love-tackled Newt, kissing him deeply as he and Newt found comfortable positions on the bed. Thomas kept Newt pinned and Newt bit Thomas' lip; Thomas felt much better than he had in awhile. He couldn't stop thinking about the Glade. That spark in Newt's eyes ignited so many memories; looking into Newt's eyes just before the boy took off into a sprint towards the wall, Thomas giving chase. He thought about when they were alone in the Homestead, he thought about every time Newt winked, every time he made a dirty comment. In other words, he thought about every time he had seen this life in Newt's eyes- and every time, it made Thomas' heart beat faster. Every single time. 

With long kisses and small (gasping) breath breaks, Thomas knew he didn't have to tell Newt he loved him at that moment for him to know it.

***

Almost an hour later, Thomas sat with the other Gladers in the common room. Newt leaning on his right arm, Minho sitting to his left. Everyone faced Rat Man, he seemed to be quickly reading over a final page. The silence should've been heavy, but Thomas was in too good of a mood to notice. Newt, too. He hugged Thomas' arm and rested his head on Thomas' shoulder with a smile. They stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the rest. 

Rat Man put his feet on the floor. He scooted his chair back to rummage through the drawers in his desk. Finally, he found a messily packed folder and stood, "thank you for gathering in an orderly manner so I can tell you what I've been instructed to tell you. Please listen carefully." 

"Why do you need the wall!" Minho shouted. 

Newt reached behind Thomas and punched Minho in the arm, "Shut it!" 

Rat Man continued as if Minho hadn't said a word. "You're all still here because of your driving force to survive, despite all the odds. All that's happened to you, as I'm sure you know now, was to analyze your responses. It's not so much an experiment, as it is a blueprint. We take your results and put them all together; we are designing the ultimate breakthrough in the history of medicine and science. These situations, we call them Variables. I can't tell you everything, but you must know that what's happening to you- what has happened to you-" he seemed to briefly flick his eyes over Thomas, "- is for a very important cause. 

"I represent a group called WICKED. It sands menacing, I know, but it simply stands for: World In Catastrophe, Killzone Experiment Department. We exist only to save the world from catastrophe. We have everything you could ever need to do something like that, and we will use it all. As you make your way through the Trials, you have seen and will continue to see evidence of our resourcefulness- taking form in brilliant technology. The Maze was part of the Variables. Everything you've been through so far, it was part of Phase One. Now we need to up the ante- it's time for Phase Two. It's time for things to get difficult." 

 

Slowly, Rat Man lowered himself back into his chair. He casually explained the Flare- the disease and its origins. He also informed them that they all were already infected. 

A panic set in Thomas, and all the others. He thought about the Cranks, the madness, the sores, the inhumanity. Thomas swallowed hard, reaching over and gripping Newt's hand. 

"By doing what we ask, you'll save yourselves by getting the cure." 

Everyone was silent. Thomas focused on Rat Man's every move, waiting for further instruction. "Phase Two. The Scorch Trials. It officially begins tomorrow at six o'clock. In the wall behind me you will find a Flat Trans. To your eyes, the Flat Trans will appear as a shimmering wall of gray. You have five minutes for all of you to get through. It opens at six o'clock, closes at six-o'five, understood?" 

"At that point," Rat Man continued after the boys nodded, "The Scorch Trials will have begun. You will find your way to open air, then head due north for a hundred miles. Make it to the safe haven within two weeks time and Phase Two will end. At that time, you'll all be cured of The Flare. If you don't make, you'll all die." 

"Oh," he added as he stood, "if you choose not to enter the Flat Trans, you will be immediately executed in a most unpleasant manner." 

And with that, he turned towards the wall, the invisible wall around him erupting into heavy, white fog. When it faded, he was gone. The desk was gone- like it had never even been there. 

"Well shuck me," Minho whispered next to Thomas.


	8. Chapter Twelve/Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you lovlies~ Sometime this evening (hopefully sooner) I'll post another update or two :) 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own the Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

The room was consumed with questions and arguments. Thomas needed to think, he grabbed Newt's hand and pulled him up, the two of them rushing into the bathroom. "I need to think," Thomas explained as they closed the door behind him. 

Newt nodded and leaned against the wall, "me too." 

And with that, they fell into a silence. Thomas tried to piece it together, how his desk- and him- could disappear into a literal cloud of white fog. Rat Man had said WICKED had some heavy technology, but Thomas was only know beginning to let his imagination attempt to grasp the magnitude of that statement. If they could do that, surely, they could do anything. 

What was worse; the Flare. 

They were all infected. A quick image of Newt, Aris, Minho, himself- all the Gladers that were still there- being covered in blotchy sores, riddling with madness, screaming, biting. 

He shoved the image away. This is why he didn't let his imagination take over. 

Phase Two was starting tomorrow, as well. Somehow, Thomas knew that this was going to be worse than the Maze. It was hard to imagine that, but Thomas didn't doubt it would be. 

"What're you weirdos doing in the shuckin' bathroom?" Minho asked from the doorway. 

"It's too freaking nuts out there, we needed to think." Thomas answered. 

Minho nodded. "Flat Trans," Thomas said aloud, trying the word out on his tongue.

"Yeah, must be some kind of bloody doorway," Newt said, earning a nod from Minho and Thomas. 

They discussed things Rat Man said for a bit before a brief silence settled, which Newt broke quickly. "Well. We've got stuff to figure out. And I need help makin' sure the bloody food's not gone before tomorrow... Something tells me we're gonna need it."

Thomas hadn't even thought of that, "you're right. People still eating?" 

Newt shook his head, "nah, Frypan was tellin' me about takin' over it before the Rat dude showed up. He's religious about food- I think he misses feedin' these buggers. Though I'm worried they're gonna get panicky and try to eat it anyway." 

"Oh come on," Minho chimed in, ever so pleasant, "those of us left ain't sissies. The idiots, the ones who can't handle themselves stayed back in that shuck Maze. Only the elite's left." 

"Maybe," Newt said, giving Minho a sideways look as if he had just insulted Newt's mother, "anyways, I was thinkin' we need to establish some bloody order here. No structure- it's drivin' me nuts." 

Thomas and Minho exchanged looks, Newt was getting at something and wasn't doing a good job at getting to the point. "What are you getting at?" Thomas asked after a moment. 

Newt's were firm as they flicked to Minho, "I think we need to have the right leader for tomorrow. There can't be any doubt who's in charge." 

Minho rolled his eyes, "you're barking crap, Newt. Everyone knows you're the leader- YOU know it." 

Newt tapped Minho's neck, right on his tattoo, "you think this is just a bloody decoration?" 

"Oh come on," Minho retorted, swiveling his neck away from Newt, "you really think this means a damn thing? They're just messin' with our heads." 

Newt was persistent about, but Thomas had tuned it all out. Minho was the leader, he'd have to be- Newt wasn't an idiot, he knew that. But an icy worry crept over him- if Minho was meant to be the leader, and Newt was definitely the glue, then that would make their tattoos certain. 

That would mean Thomas was meant to be killed. 

 

Newt had finally convinced Minho to be the leader. Thomas thought it was going to be somewhat weird to not have Newt barking the orders and making the tough calls now, but he guessed it was just how it was supposed to be. 

Around nine o'clock, Thomas and Newt were lying awake in bed. "This is lame." Newt whispered. 

Thomas looked at him and frowned, he looked so tired- not needing sleep sort of tired- emotionally and mentally worn out sort of tired. But there was fight in his eyes, and that was what mattered. "We'll make it." Thomas assured. 

Newt looked over and half smiled, "I know it." 

Thomas kissed Newt softly, "get some sleep. We're gonna need it." 

Newt nodded and turned his back on Thomas. Thomas scooted against him and draped an arm around him, staring at the wall past Newt. Things were going to change tomorrow; Thomas had always worried about protecting Newt in the Maze, now this was going to be a whole new ordeal. In the Maze, before things got bad, there was nothing to actually protect Newt from. And when there was, Thomas knew what to expect. Except Gally and that piece of wood, that had taken Thomas by utter surprise. 

But for the most part, Thomas had known what was crawling through the Doors at night. But now, Thomas and Newt and Minho and everyone else Thomas cared about were going to be wandering blindly into danger. People were going to lose their lives, Thomas had no doubt of it. He thought about Chuck and Teresa. What had happened to them. He thought about his friends now, what they were being put through. What WICKED was putting them through. And if the only way to get back at those monsters was to get through their tests, to survive- then so be it.

With that thought draping his mind like a blanket, Thomas drifted to sleep. 

 

Every Glader had set their alarm clock on their watches for five o'clock. Thomas had woken up well before that and simply laid awake, holding Newt, studying his sleeping face- the way his small chest rose and fell. When beeps filled the room, Thomas sat up with Newt. Someone flipped on the lights and Thomas stood, heading to the showers. Who knew how long it'd be before he could clean himself again? Newt joined him, of course. 

When there was only ten minutes until six, all the Gladers stood in the common room- their plastic bags of water and bed sheets full of food at their sides. Newt was on one side of Thomas, Aris on the other. He and Aris spoke briefly before Minho stood, addressing the Gladers. "We've got three minutes, everyone still want to go?" 

Everyone nodded. 

"It's six o'clock!" One of the Gladers shouted. 

And as if being triggered by the kid's voice, white, splotchy fog appeared on the wall behind where Rat Man had once sat and read. A split second later, it vanished all together and Thomas noticed the change in the wall instantly. A large section of it had became a flat, shimmering surface. "Come on!" Minho yelled, "no messing around, we've only got five minutes to get through. I'll go first. Thomas, go last, make sure everyone gets through." 

Thomas nodded and got to his feet, clutching Newt's hand. Minho walked right up to the wall. Minho didn't even look daunted as he studied the trippy, swirling surface. He looked back and flashed a leader's grin, "see you shanks on the other side." 

Then he stepped in, and was swallowed whole.


	9. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is literally three in the morning here. My throat had been getting sore over the past couple days, but the sickness has hit me! Doesn't help my mom insists having the heater that heats up the entire house on the time. I hate sleeping warm-- but my fan is overpowered by that heat-monster D: But I turned it down some, so I think we're good.   
> Might as well update, though, since I can't really see myself falling asleep anytime soon XD 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Thomas began herding the boys in one-by-one, and not one complained. Without fail, every Glader that stepped into the Flat Trans was swallowed up by it. After two minutes, Thomas, Aris and Newt were the only boys still in the common room. 

'You sure about this?' Aris asked in Thomas' mind. 

Thomas half chocked from the surprise of the words. It was nothing against Aris, really, but that sort of thing was for him and Teresa only-- and Newt if he could do it, but sadly, he couldn't. "Hurry," Thomas said, holding his gaze firm on Aris, hoping he'd get the hint. 

Aris gave him a hurt look that made Thomas feel a bit bad before the boy stepped through. "You're next," Thomas said to Newt. 

Newt nodded and stretched up, kissing Thomas briefly, "See ya on the other side, Tommy." he said, flashing a partly nervous smile before- hesitating a moment- limping into the Flat Trans; that one uneven step separating Newt and Thomas over a vast distance unknown. 

That thought was enough to get Thomas moving. 

When he stepped through, a distinct line of cold traveled over him. Suddenly, he was in utter darkness. He began to panic, "hey!" he shouted, rushing forward. 

He crashed right into somebody, the two of them falling- the body squirming underneath him. Thomas thought for a split second that maybe it could be Newt, since he was the last one through before Thomas, but when the figure shouted and shoved Thomas off, he knew it wasn't. "Everyone be still and shut up!" Minho yelled. "Thomas, that you?" 

"Yes!" Thomas yelled, blindly finding his footing. "Did everyone make it?" he asked, mostly referring to Newt. 

"We were counting off until you came stumbling through. Let's try again- One!" 

No one said anything, so Thomas called out, "two!" 

From there, Gladers began calling out a number one-by-one. He heard Newt up somewhere by Minho, making him cringe. He doubted he could get himself up there without breaking his leg or somebody else's. Aris was the last, calling out twenty. 

"All right, listen up." Minho started again, "we're in some kind of hallway- I can feel the walls on either side. Everyone follow my voice and come towards me, not much choice but to head down and see what we find." 

Everyone began to walk towards Minho as walked away. It was mostly silent despite shuffles and whispers. Thomas wished his eyes would adjust; but they just wouldn't, it was utter darkness. The tunnel went on and on, just going straight. No turns, no bends. Then whispers erupted from up ahead. And it wasn't coming from any Glader. 

Thomas stopped dead in his tracks. Minho shouted for everyone to stop, "you hear that?" 

Quiet yeses and yeahs filled the air, Thomas included. The whispering had ended quickly. Minho called for everyone to shush and listen, and the tunnel fell silent. Less than a minute passed before an ancient voice whispered again. A couple people gasped. "Did anybody get what it said?" It was Newt's voice, all the way up by Minho. Thomas had the sudden urge to push his way through boys to get to him. 

"Couple of words." Winston called out, "sounded like somebody said 'go back' in the middle." 

"Yeah, it did." Someone agreed. 

The next time the voice came, Thomas understood it all. "One-chance deal. Go back now, you won't be sliced." 

Gasps and murmurs and whispers came from the Gladers; they seemed to have heard it. Thomas felt his nerves stand on end, this was already getting bad. It was only a matter of time- 

Thomas' entire body jumped and shuddered when he felt a hand on his wrist. "Tommy! Geez!" 

Thomas relaxed instantly and wrapped his arms blindly around Newt. "How'd you get back here without running into anybody?" Thomas asked before releasing him, wishing so strongly he could see him. But he knew Newt's presence well, and for now, that would suffice. 

"I walked slow and along the wall." Newt said as if it had been no big deal. 

"Just keep going!" Minho shouted from ahead, "no sense trusting some random shank in the dark." 

"Wait a minute," Frypan started, "the voice said this was a one-chance deal, maybe we should think about this." 

Someone else suggested going back and Thomas shook his head though no one could see it, "no way. You know what the guy at the desk said. The voice is probably just a test, let's keep going." 

"He's right." Minho said, "let's go." 

Immediately afterwards, the whispering voice filled the air again. A sickening, child-like hatred and a hint of amusement in its voice; "You're all dead. You're all going to be sliced. Dead and sliced." 

Thomas reached out and snapped Newt's hand into his, as if that would keep the danger away from them. But they all moved forward, no one said a thing. And so they made their way deeper into the darkness, leaving the whispering voice behind. 

It felt like they had been shuffling along forever. And then a boy screamed a couple dozen feet in front of him. 

It started out as a surprised and abrupt shriek, but then dragged into a blood-curdling howl-like screeching. Thomas heard the boy's body fall to the floor. Instinctively, Thomas released Newt's hand and dashed forward. He pushed through the still Gladers. He made it, could hear the boy right at his feet, his arms and legs thrashing madly. Thomas carefully set his water bag and pack aside and reached forward, hoping to come in contact with some limb. 

He had tried to go about it carefully, even called out to him to ask what was wrong, but the kid's body convulsed and writhed, impossible to be caught by the timid hand. So Thomas went for broke. He dove forward, crashing into the kid underneath him. It was all Thomas could do to stay on. The screams gurgled to a stop as if the boy had drowned, but the thrashing didn't. 

Thomas pinned him down and reached for his face or hair, but when his hand came in contact with what was there; he was gripped by utter confusion. There was no head. There was no hair. Not even a neck. Instead, Thomas felt a large and perfectly smooth ball of cold metal in their place.


	10. Chapter Fifteen/Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I've got a Knowledge Bowl meet tomorrow, so the update should be pretty late. I'll try and update before school tomorrow, but I plan on straightening my ridiculously long hair and whatnot- which is not something I do, but I actually found my straightener so... XD 
> 
> Anywhooooo XD ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

The boy stopped moving as Thomas touched the... thing that should've been his head. Thomas felt something thick and wet oozing up from where the kid's neck should've been. No one had to tell Thomas it was blood. 

The ball slipped from under Thomas' fingers, rolling away. Gladers were asking questions, but Thomas ignored them-- horror filled his chest like a drug, his twisted imagination imagining what the boy must look like. Even more fear struck him as he realized the image of the boy in his mind was probably accurate. Thomas' mind spun trying to make sense of the situation, and that was when he realized that the sticky, warm blood was pooling around and under his hand. 

He scooted back madly, bumping into a kid or two who would scurry out of his way. He bumped into someone who didn't move, and then felt a familiar pair of hands grip his shoulders, "Tommy, calm down!" 

Thomas wiped his hand on his pants frantically, barely hearing Newt. Next thing Thomas knew, Newt was hoisting him to his feet. Thomas stumbled to his feet and reached back, gripping Newt's arm with the hand that hadn't been submerged in blood a moment ago. "Thomas!" Minho's voice, right in front of him, "Thomas- what happened!?" 

Thomas squeezed Newt's arm so hard he felt the muscle underneath tense, but Newt didn't recoil, just let him. Thomas sucked in huge gulps of the stale air, stomach lurching, "I... I don't know, I can't-- who was that? Who was screaming?" 

Winston answered. "Frankie, I think. He was right next to me, then it was like something yanked him away. Definitely, definitely Frankie." 

"What happened!" Minho shouted, gripping Thomas by the shirt collar. 

"I heard him screaming, ran up to him to help. I pinned him down, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. Then I reached to grab his face or something like that, but..." his voice trailed, Minho's hand gripping him tighter, "... There was just no head. Just... Just a metal ball...? Like his head had been swallowed by a big metal ball!" Thomas said, starting to panic again. 

"It's right here!" Newt yelled, Thomas hadn't realized he'd left until now. Thomas heard a heavy scrape and a grunt as Newt heaved it up off the ground, "it's covered in blood... Bigger than a buggin' head. And a perfect sphere..." 

Thomas was so disgusted and absolutely terrified, "Newt, put it down, come here. We need to run, we need to get out of here. Now." 

"Thomas is right." Minho said as Thomas heard Newt placing the ball down and shuffling over to him, "everyone spread out a couple feet and start runnin'. Stay low, protect your head." 

No one argued. Thomas found his food and water and held it with one hand, holding Newt's hand with the other. And they started running, everyone. People did fairly well at not running into each other, but navigating through the darkness wasn't easy, though Thomas really didn't care. He just wanted to get away. So he ran and didn't stop. 

A death ball got one more person. And it was wrong, but no one stopped. 

Newt and Thomas didn't slow down once, neither did anyone else. Just as Thomas thought he couldn't go on anymore, Minho called for everyone to stop. Thomas stopped, sucking in desperate gasp after desperate gasp. He felt Newt plop on his butt beside him, panting miserably and groaning. Thomas would've asked him if he was okay if Thomas had air to do so. Everyone took awhile to stop and breathe, but Frypan was the first to recover, "why'd we stop?"

"Cause I almost broke my shin on something up here! I think it's a staircase." Minho said. 

Thomas felt his spirits lift. Thomas heard the heavy clomp of footsteps as Minho ran up the stairs. Then other footsteps added to the metallic symphony. Thomas helped Newt to his feet and they started blindly making their way up the steps. A loud bang, much deeper than the thin metal of the stairs, sounded from above. "Ow!" Minho yelled. 

"You okay?" Newt asked. 

"What'd you hit?" Thomas added. 

"The shuck top, that's what. We've hit the roof and there's no where else to- oh wait, I think I found..." his voice trailed as a distinct clink took over, then the world took fire. 

Thomas, and all the other Gladers, cried out and covered their faces. A blinding light seared into his eyes- and the heat was so intense. There were a couple sounds above, then the world was blanketed in blissful darkness. Thomas rubbed at his eyes, trying to urge the spots off his vision. "Shuck me," Minho said, "we found a way out, but it's too freaking bright. And hot." 

"Here," Thomas heard Newt say beside him, then heard Newt climbing the steps to Minho, "let's just open it a crack and let our eyes get used to it. Here's a shirt. Everyone shut your eyes!" 

Everyone did as told, and Thomas couldn't help but think- tattoo or no tattoo- Newt had leadership in his blood. 

Orange leaked through Thomas' fingers, and Thomas could feel the heat seeping in. He waited until the orange wasn't so shocking, then slowly removed his hands. He had to squint, and he surely wasn't enjoying it, but he could at least stand it. After another minute or so, everything was bright but it was fine. Now he could see that he stood about twenty steps below Minho and Newt. He was mostly silhouetted, but Thomas could see Newt. His heart sprang up with the sight. 

After discussing it briefly, Minho and Newt positioned themselves under the heavy door and pushed it up. The brightness seemed impossible and Thomas had to look away. Minho and Newt started going out, but they both recoiled, making Thomas panic for a moment-- but they were okay. Minho winced, "it's burning my shuck skin!" 

Newt nodded, "I don't know if we can go out there, we might need to wait until the sun goes down." 

Winston suddenly started yelling something, making Thomas swivel to face him. He was pointing at something above him, scrambling up the stairs. Thomas followed Winston's direction and saw something so odd, Thomas thought maybe he was going nuts here. A liquid ball of silver seeping out of the metal as if melting into a tear drop. When it was free, it wobbled and wavered for a moment, then it detached from the ceiling and came falling fast. 

But instead of splatting on the open space beneath it, it went... up. Directly towards Winston. Then his screams filled the air, following him as he stumbled down the stairs. 

 

 

Thomas, once again, was pushing his way towards the next victim. He heard Newt let out a panicked yell after him, but he kept going. Winston eventually slumped to a stop. Both of Winston's hands were at his face, pulling at the silver liquid. The ball of silver had consumed the top of Winston's head and was making its way down. Thomas leaped over Winston and knelt on the step below him, Winston was pulling and pushing at the deadly thing- keeping it away from his eyes. And it was working. 

"Get it off me!" Winston yelled, so strangled Thomas almost lost his nerve. 

Thomas ripped open his pack, pouring its contents beside him and wrapping the sheet around his hands to protect them. Winston was doing all he could to keep it off his eyes, so Thomas grabbed the goop trying to take Winston's ears. Heat seeped through Thomas' sheet. Thomas steeled himself, braced his feet, gripped the goop tight then yanked. 

With a sickening sucking sound, the dense silver gel released before clamping itself back down on Winston's ears. Thomas got an idea, but he needed Winston's help. "We have to do it together!" Thomas yelled directly in Winston's face, over the boys screams, "Listen to me, Winston! We have to do it together- grip it and yank it up!" 

Winston's body convulsed and struggled, if it wasn't for Thomas being below him, he definitely would've tumbled down to the bottom by now. "On the count of three, Winston! The count of three!" 

There was still no sign he'd heard it. Tears welled in Thomas' eyes, or maybe sweat had run into his eyes- it stung. His muscles screamed and tensed and cramped. He was fatiguing- it was now or never. "Just do it!" he yelled, "One! Two! Now!" 

Thomas gripped the silver with all he had and began pulling it up. Winston must've heard him, because he began pushing it up at the same time. Miraculously, the entire mass of silver came off. Thomas didn't hesitate; he held tight to it and turned towards the darkness below and threw it with everything he had- so hard that the momentum almost made him stumble off the steps. 

It stopped right at the bottom of the stair case and Thomas' will broke. But instead of coming back, it hovered motionless. Then flew off into the darkness. 

Thomas sucked in incredible amounts of air and once again, almost fell off the steps when he felt Newt's arm wrap around him, "that was... bloody nuts, but amazing." Newt muttered in his ear. 

Thomas closed his eyes, muscles tensing and throbbing. He looked back at Winston who was sitting on the step, whimpering. The kid was a mess. In a ball, shaking, his hair was gone- replaced with deep, bloody splotches. All the skin that had been under the silver monstrosity was red and blistering, and the kid sobbed and sobbed. Couldn't blame him, though. 

"Are you okay?" Newt asked, stealing the words off Thomas' tongue, even though it was a stupid question. 

Winston shook his head with a quick jerk and continued to tremble. "What was that shuck thing?" Minho asked quietly. 

"Magic goop that eats people's bloody heads, that's what." Newt answered. 

"That thing dripped right out of the ceiling," Frypan said, "we should go. Now." 

"Couldn't agree more," Newt said. 

"Jack, Frypan, help Winston." Minho ordered, "Aris, gather up his stuff and carry it for him. We're leaving. I don't care how bright or hot it is out there. I think I speak for everyone when I say I'd like to keep my head the way it is." 

"Come on," he continued, "Thomas, Newt. The three of us are going through first." 

Newt and Thomas exchanged glances, his eyes were a bit frightened, but the most prominent thing in them was curiosity and a bit of urgency. An eagerness to move on. And Thomas could feel it too, deep down inside him, he was ready to move on from here. The two made their way up the steps and Thomas stared up at the brilliance of light outside. 

He took Newt's hand and stared at it, surprisingly undaunted. If moving on from here meant taking a walk on the freaking sun, then so be it. As long as his hand was in Newt's, they'd get through.


	11. Chapter Seventeen/Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE MY LOVLIES. SNOW, AND SCHOOL AND EVERYTHING HAD ME ALL TIED UP YESTERDAY!! I feel so bad ;3; Here's the next one!!! 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

The other Gladers happily let them be the first three to walk into the unknown. 

They climbed the steps, Thomas and Newt hand-in-hand. Minho was waiting at the last step before the exit. The brilliance that shone through made Minho's olive skin shine like white fire. Minho stuck his hand out the exit, then pulled back only after a moment with a wince. "That's definitely hot. Definitely hot." 

"We can wrap somethin' around us. Let's empty our packs, we can use the sheets." he said, already crouching to undo his own. 

Thomas didn't need to do so, as he had already freed his when rescuing Winston. He waited for Newt and Minho, itching with the urge to go outside. Curiosity had taken its hold. And being in this place was much, much less than desirable. Thomas whipped his sheet around him and over his head, he held onto the sides and tucked them in close, making a makeshift robe. "How do I look?" 

"Like the ugliest shank girl I've ever seen," Minho said, bringing his own sheet around him, "better be thanking God that you're a boy." 

Newt just laughed and gave Thomas a grin, "Gotta admit, Minho's right on that one." 

"Thanks." Thomas said, smiling. 

When Newt was all wrapped in his sheet, Thomas couldn't help but notice how cute he looked. Newt noticed his staring and just stuck his tongue, only making himself cuter. "You shanks ready?" Minho announced, purposely breaking up their exchange. 

"Kind of excited, actually." Newt said. 

"Me too." Thomas said, "let's go." 

Minho looked a bit nervous for a moment, but it didn't last. He went sprinting up the steps, and right out into the intense light. Thomas and Newt exchanged looks. Newt Thomas took Newt's hand, "Together?" 

Newt gave Thomas that wicked grin and backed up and then side-stepped behind Thomas, nudging him hard- all the while holding Thomas' hand, making it bend at a somewhat awkward angle. "No way, you first baby!" 

Thomas laughed and stumbled forward, using the momentum to sprint out, holding Newt's hand as he went. As soon as Thomas made it out, he had sort of wished he hadn't gone out at all. Sort of. Thomas was taken aback slightly by the heat. Newt seemed to hesitate when he made it out, as well. Thomas opened his mouth to say something, but a plume of dry heat rolled down his throat and he coughed it out. 

The three of them wrapped themselves deeper in their sheets, all breathing heavily. "Pretty sure we just arrived in bloody Hell. Always knew you'd end up here, Minho, but not Tommy and I." 

"Good that," Minho answered, "My eyeballs hurt, but I think they're finally starting to adjust." 

Thomas squinted against the brilliant light, his eyes starting to adjust a bit now too. At least now he could see they stood on a wasteland. 

No vegetation, no life- just dust and rock and heat for miles and miles. Thomas turned in a slow circle, spotting some barren mountains in the distance, and a cluster of buildings in front of that. "How far do you think those buildings are?" Newt asked, Thomas looking at him. Sharp brown eyes squinted against the insane light, his skin seemingly glowing. The only oasis Thomas could see in this desert. 

"Thirty miles at the most." Minho said confidently, "the mountains might be sixty or seventy." 

They discussed briefly their chances. Briefly, because no one wanted to continue the conversation when they started to realize the dire situation. "Come on," Minho said, "let's get those shanks out here and start walking." 

No Glader's complained about the plan. All of them seemed just as eager to get as far away from there as them. Thomas felt a pang of compassion for these Gladers, watching them stumble up the steps with squinted, watery eyes and unsure steps- he didn't even know half of their names, but they were his family. Every one. 

Everyone shared their sheets with one other person, obviously Thomas went with Newt. At the moment, Thomas was holding up the sheet with his left hand and had the pack over his right shoulder. They were going to switch off. "So what do you think?" Thomas asked after the only sound was their breathing for awhile. 

"About what?" Newt asked. 

"This place. The Scorch. Think we can make it?" 

Newt threw his head back laughing and shook his head, "you and your stupid questions, Tommy." Newt glanced over at him, his eyes so sharp Thomas suddenly felt like he needed to take a step back, but was drawn in all the same. "Of course we can make. Take a look around, do you think these boys are anythin' but tough as nails? And us." he paused, flashing a smile, "I think we all know you and I could beat anything that posed a threat." 

Thomas smiled widely, admiring Newt's face. Such confidence, such beauty. Thomas had hoped he'd say something inspiring, but was much more energized than he thought he could be. "I love you." Thomas said, so sincere and heartfelt that it surprised himself. 

Newt seemed almost surprised, but a smug little smile found his face and he looked ahead, "I love ya, too." But the comfort in Newt's eyes- the happiness, the confidence, the love- vanished and those sharp brown eyes wavered, widening. His relaxed, happy features fell, "Tommy." he muttered, his eyes glued on something, slowing to a stop. 

Thomas frowned, senses awakening. He flicked his eyes towards whatever Newt's were on and felt himself come to his own abrupt stop. 

Far ahead, from the direction of the town, two people were running towards them. 

 

 

Thomas' sense were on overdrive. With Newt at his side, he was able to ignore the shiver of freezing cold that creeped down his back. He was able to steel himself, muscles taunt and body ready to do whatever was necessary to make sure nothing harmed Newt. Thomas could sense Newt taking a step closer to Thomas and Thomas set the pack down, wrapping his arm around Newt's waist and pulling him against him, their sheet awkwardly bending around them at the sudden closeness. 

Minho started backing up, "everyone pack in tighter. Get ready to fight if you need to." 

Thomas was damn well ready to fight. 

The figures stopped just a couple dozen feet in front of the Gladers. One was a man, one a woman. Tall and scrawny-- their heads and faces almost completely cloaked in tattered cloth. Their clothes were no one outfit- several patches and other chunks of clothing sewn over holes. "Who are you?" Minho demanded as they just stood there. 

They didn't speak or move, just stood with their chest heaving. "Who are you." Minho demanded yet again, much more stern this time. 

Instead of answering, they split up, walking in a wide circle around the group of the Gladers. They kept their eyes- shaded in darkness- focused on the Gladers. Thomas kept Newt half at his side, half behind him as he turned to watch them meet back together at the back of the group. "You better start talkin'," Minho barked, "there's a hell a lot more of us than there are of you." 

"We're Cranks." 

The woman had spat it out. She just pointed to the town for no particular reason. "Cranks?" Minho said, marching through the Gladers so he was the closest to the Gladers again- that move made Thomas think that maybe Minho could be a damn good leader. 

"We're Cranks." 

The man this time. And he just pointed to the town as well. "Came to see if you're Cranks, too. Came to see if you've got the Flare." 

Minho secured his hands on his hips, "some dude told us we've got the Flare, yeah. What can you tell us about it?" 

"Doesn't matter." The man responded, "you'll know soon enough." 

"Well, what do you bloody want?" Newt snapped, starting to move to stand beside Minho. Thomas held him in place, giving him a pleading look when their eyes meant. He just wanted, one time, for Newt to stay somewhere he could keep him safe. Newt didn't fight it. 

"How'd you get in the Scorch? Where'd you come from?" The woman asked this time. 

Minho did a couple side-steps until he was close with Thomas and Newt. Thomas released Newt for now and stepped towards Minho with him, but Thomas kept Newt slightly behind him. "What do we tell these people?" Minho asked. 

Thomas shrugged, exchanging glances with a just as confused Newt, "I don't know, the truth? It can't hurt." Thomas suggested. 

"The truth?" Minho spat sarcastically, "you're a genius, Thomas." he looked at the Cranks, "we were sent here by WICKED. Came out of a hole, from a tunnel. We're supposed to go one hundred miles to the north, cross the Scorch. Mean anything to you?"

"Not all Cranks are gone," the man said as if he hadn't heard a thing Minho had said, "not all are past the Gone. Different ones at different levels. Best you learn who to make friends with and who to avoid. Or kill." 

And with that, they made their way back around the group in their broad circle back to where they had orginally been standing. "If you don't have it yet, you'll have it soon. Same with the other group. The ones that're supposed to kill you." And with the woman's last few words, they turned and ran back to where they had orginally come from. 

"Wonder if they're talking about my group." Aris said. 

"Group B?" Thomas asked, "you think they've already made it to the town?" 

"Hello!" Minho said loudly, "who cares? You think the other stuff might be a bit more important?" 

Thomas' skin crawled when he thought about the tattoo. "Maybe when she said 'you', she didn't mean us." he said, tapping his neck, "maybe she meant me." 

Newt gave him one hell of a look, maybe it was the way Thomas had said it or worded it, but Thomas could feel a slap coming on-- thankfully, Minho spoke; "If someone tries to kill you, or any of us, they might as well be after all of us, right?" 

Newt's features softened a little as he leaned against Thomas' side, "So what now?" he asked Minho. 

"We keep going, that's what. We've got nothing here, and there we could have- at least- salvation. Cranks or no Cranks, we're going. We can handle ourselves." Minho answered. 

"And Group B?" Thomas asked. 

"I think we can handle 'em," he said, flexing his arm. 

"And if these girls have weapons? Or can fight? Or if it's not even them- if it's seven foot tall grunts who like to eat people? Or a thousand Cranks?" Thomas pressed. 

"Thomas... no. Everybody." Minho let out a sigh, "would everyone just slim it? Let's just take the only chance we have." 

Thomas smiled. Somehow, Minho had given him a bit of hope. "Good that. Now Tommy and Newt, take the back- don't let Newt fall behind with that limp." he said, teasingly. Newt rolled his eyes, but he was fighting a smile somewhere. 

And so they did. Newt insisted on taking the pack, despite Thomas assuring him he could take it a bit longer. They went on, sometimes walking, sometimes jogging. Finally, just an hour after the Cranks' appearances, the sun was starting to go down- leaving a purple-orange trail in its wake. Not long after that, nighttime and stars took the sky. 

Instead of sleeping, they moved on- maybe even quicker than before. Now that the sun had gone down, a pleasant cool took over and their arms didn't ache anymore after they put the sheet away for the night. 

Soon, dusk was gone altogether and the stars were the only light they had left.


	12. Chapter Nineteen/Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!!! Washington (where I live) had a huge wind storm, 80mph gusts, that brought done I think... Four? Five? Power lines, killed two people, and left a lot of people homeless or with big holes in their roofs! It was really crappy. I'm fine and so is my house, but we lost power Tuesday night and it's Saturday morning, we just got it back-- so I'm really sorry for the delay!! But here's the next update guys!!!!!! 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Not long after dark, a girl began screaming. 

At first, Thomas couldn't tell what he was hearing. Then when he was sure of what it was, he began doubting it. There was just no way- it was just his imagination, he was tired. But Newt looked at him and started to hesitate, then the others noticed and a chill crept through Thomas. A girl's scream was tearing through the night. 

Slowly, all the Gladers stopped moving. Once everyone caught their breath, and it was easier to hear her, Thomas had no doubt it was a girl screaming. 

She sounded injured, perhaps being tortured. "You know what that reminds me of?" Minho asked after a moment. 

"Ben. Alby. Me, too." Thomas answered without even thinking about it. 

"Bingo." 

For a brief moment, Newt looked unimaginably pained at the mention of Alby, but it washed away as soon as it appeared. "Doubt it was Grievers, though. Their skin was too bloody slimy, they'd turn into a dirt ball- just crust up and break in the daytime." 

"What now?" Thomas asked, looking to Newt on instinct, then at Minho. 

"Take a break." Minho said, "fill our little tummies, get some water. Maybe a couple hours of sleep before dawn." 

No one made a sound as the boys sat, undoing their packs and resting. No one save for the screaming girl. 

***

"I wish she'd stop doin' that..." Newt murmured as they ran in the darker-than-dark night, none of the Gladers had been quite ready to sleep yet.

"No kidding," Thomas answered, and they slowed to a walk. 

For a minute, their heavy breaths was the only sound. Thomas caught his breath first and kept an eye on Newt- his limp was weighing him down. Thomas took Newt's hand. Newt glanced over at him and half smiled, giving Thomas' hand a squeeze, "I hope we get out of the Scorch soon. It's nearly impossible to hold your hand out here," Newt said. 

Thomas smiled and nodded, "I know what you mean. I hope we get out of all of it soon. Wouldn't it be nice to just lay in bed for an entire day? Not have to be up dealing with chaos right away?" 

Newt closed his eyes and let out a pleased hum, imagining it. He leaned his head on Thomas' shoulder briefly as they walked. "Now you got me wishin' for it." 

Thomas laughed, but stopped when Minho spun on his heels. "Okay, potty break." He said, clasping his hands together. He went on to give directions, which Thomas tuned out. 

Thomas looked around the place where they'd stopped. He froze for a moment when he saw something in the distance, "Newt. Newt, Minho!" he said, pointing at the little, squat building- just a darker patch of shadow against the darkness and the slight illumination from the town beyond. 

"I see it," Minho responded, Newt and Minho standing on either side of Minho. 

Thomas didn't have time to say anything before two things happened; the screams stopped. And a girl stepped out from behind the building. 

 

 

Thomas' eyes widened. Her hair looked familiar. "Is that Teresa?" Newt asked, reading Thomas' mind.

'Teresa?' Thomas called. Nothing. 'Teresa?!' Nothing. 

"I think... Maybe," Thomas answered, not entirely sure. "She still won't talk to me," he said, knowing he didn't have to explain. 

Minho stood, hands on his hips, "so was she the one screaming? Or was she torturing some poor girl in there? Neither of those sound very charming," he turned on his heels, clapping his hands together and facing the group, "so, who wants to go meet this nice young lady?" 

"I'll do it." Thomas said. 

"I was kidding, shuck-face. It could be a trap. We'll all go," he said, already beginning to walk that way. 

"No!" Thomas said, "I'll go. If it's a trap, then only one of us should get caught. And if I need you guys, I'll call for you." 

Minho pursed his lips, then looked at Newt. Thomas frowned, if this was up to Newt, he was screwed. Newt looked at Thomas and crossed his arms, his expression unreadable, "... You better hurry it up, Tommy. If it's Teresa, get her and let's go. If it's not, turn your butt around and let's get out of here." 

Thomas was kind of surprised, then nodded, "Okay." He smiled, "I'll be right back, okay?" 

Newt nodded, "if ya do anything stupid, I'll beat your sorry butt."

Thomas grinned and nodded, then started walking at a brisk pace towards the silhouetted girl. He was closing the distance quick, and when he was only a couple feet from her, he had no doubt it was her. Suddenly, she turned around and started into the building. Thomas frowned and followed her into the dark building. The air in the room was cool and rested itself against Thomas' skin like blissful medicine. "Teresa?" he asked aloud, "Teresa, what's going on?" 

She said nothing, but she sniffled- was she crying? 

"Teresa," Thomas started again, getting worried, "Teresa, I don't know what happened, but I'm here. Everyone's just outside, just come with me, we'll get out of he-" 

A quick light ignited, just a match in Teresa's hand. Slowly, she dipped her hand down and the fire took the wick of a candle on the table. She swiped the match with a flick of her wrist, killing it. Thomas looked up and he had been right, it was Teresa. She was clean. Her lips trembled, her eyes wet with tears. She looked terrified. 

"Teresa, what's wrong?" He asked softly, not risking to approach her. 

A very long moment passed in silence. Thomas tried to speak again, but she rushed forward. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him. Thomas hugged her back, "come on Teresa, let's go, everyone's waiting. We can all be together again, let's go." he pressed, he didn't know what, but he could tell something was up. They needed to get far away from here- the way her body occasionally lurched and stiffened- it reminded him of Alby. And Gally. When they were being controlled. He needed to get her out of here, get Newt and Minho and the others far away from here. 

She suddenly ripped herself away from his embrace and stumbled back until she hit the table, "get away from me, Tom. All of you need to... Don't argue. Just leave. Run. Run very far away from here." Her voice caught in her throat, like she wasn't supposed to say that. 

Thomas' heart twisted. Something was wrong here, he knew it. And Newt and Minho were just outside. He knew he had to leave. And it broke his heart, he had to leave his best friend in this place while she was being controlled, a captive of WICKED. He glanced down, thinking about when he walked away from Chuck's corpse and the feeling ran through his veins, it felt just like that time. It was daunting how similar they felt. He looked up at her and he nodded. 

"We'll find you. We'll be a family again, all of us." He assured. 

Then, he turned and ran out- not once looking back.


	13. Chapter Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter to try to begin making up for the days I had no power XD 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Thomas trembled with emotion. How many times? How many times had he sworn now to protect to his friends? First Chuck, now Teresa... 

He stumbled away from the building, feeling weak, as if she had drained every ounce of energy from him with nothing more than her words. When he reached the Gladers, he simply mumbled they needed to get away from here, fast. And then he didn't wait. 

He sprinted. 

He had plenty of energy for running, but not for anything else. He couldn't talk to them, he couldn't face telling them he found their friend and didn't do everything in his power to bring her back home. They'd left a Glader back there. 

His body could only take so much, after two hours- maybe even three- of nonstop sprinting, he had to stop. His heart would explode, he was sure of it. He doubled over and grabbed his knees, heaving loudly. He hadn't realized how long and how hard he'd been running until now, and he was kind of regretting it. 

By the time the Gladers closed the distance to him, breathing was much easier. Newt picked up his pace when he saw him and ran over to him, furious. He came to a stumbling stop and "slapped" Thomas. At least that was what it was supposed to be. In reality, all the tired Glader could manage was pressing his hand against Thomas' cheek and somewhat pushing it away until he needed to double over and grip his knees to focus on breathing. 

"How could you... do that..." Newt panted. 

Suddenly, seeing Newt there, all Thomas wanted was to be with him, talk to him and no one else. Thomas sat on the desert ground, legs begging him to do so. Newt looked up at Thomas, and apparently Thomas' faces was reflecting something because Newt's features softened. Minho came jogging up next, "What kind of shuck idiot are you, Thomas!? Since when do we do that? Since when is that how we handle anything?" 

"Slim it, Minho," Newt suddenly snapped, taking Minho and Thomas by surprise with the venom in his voice. He looked back at Thomas, brown eyes softening immediately. Newt knelt in front of Thomas, "something happened?" 

Thomas' eyes fell and he nodded. Minho knelt as well, "what happened? Was it Teresa?" 

Thomas nodded. Several Gladers gasped, some muttered to each other. Newt stayed quiet, placing his hand on Thomas'. "And you left her there?" Minho asked incredulously.

Thomas sighed, but he explained. He told them every detail- walking into the building, hearing her cry- from the way her body halted and the way she seemed pained when delivering her warning. 

Newt frowned, "are you okay?" he asked quietly as Minho and the other Gladers talked about the shocking story. 

Thomas looked up at him and locked eyes with him. He didn't want to look away- certain he could draw energy from those eyes. Thomas half smiled and nodded a little, pulling Newt closer to him. Newt adjusted himself so he sat right in front of Thomas, facing him, his legs positioned somewhere behind Thomas, his arms around Thomas' shoulders. "We'll get her back." Newt assured. 

Thomas nodded, stealing a kiss. It was quick and small, but his heart felt lighter. Suddenly, Thomas wouldn't have minded if all he ever did was sit there with Newt. 

Minho spoke, "I'm freaking exhausted. We ran ourselves ragged right into daylight trying to keep up with Mr. Desert Runner here. I say we rest. Under your sheets, but give it a shot." 

Thomas closed his eyes with relief. The last thing he wanted was to be on his feet again. Newt and Thomas untangled themselves so they could lay on the ground, where they immediately got all tangled up again. Their sheet over them, protecting them from the brilliance of the rising sun and its soon-to-be intense heat. Thomas rested his forehead against Newt's, "I'm sorry. For running off like that." 

Newt grinned and shrugged, "the slap might not have been much, but you got the point." 

Thomas laughed a little and pulled Newt closer. Newt nuzzled his head into the crook of Thomas' neck and Thomas smiled into the top of Newt's head, into his dirty, wind-swept hair. They were a mess, but Thomas still couldn't get enough of him, couldn't seem to get close enough to him. For some reason, he felt infinitely better, as if it had never happened. And his mood had been gradually increasing since Newt "slapped" him, of all times. Everything Newt did left Thomas' heart racing. Newt's presence intoxicated him like a drug, left him craving it. 

The warm haze it brought inside Thomas pulled him into blissful, comfortable sleep.


	14. Chapter Twenty-Two/Twenty-Three/Twenty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's like midnight here, but hey! I've got soda and warm food-- So next update :) 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***
> 
> Oh and P.S., this chapter has three in it because I realized that last chapter, I had intended to do chapters twenty-one and twenty-two, but I forgot chapter twenty-two... Oh boy XD So I am gonna do three this time XD

They got about four long hours, tangled up with each other. But Minho started waking people up- the one's who weren't already up from the blazing sun, that is. The day had barely begun, and yet as he sat there, repacking his pack after breakfast, he was already wishing for nightfall. It was so hot. He hadn't done a thing and he was already drenching his clothes in sweat. 

The other Gladers seemed just as miserable. Everyone was quiet and a certain heavy, worn-out atmosphere hung over them. The heat was just beating everyone down. But the curiosity of finding that stupid town and the fact that they had gotten this far kept him going, and it seemed to be the driving force for the others as well. Though, as he and Newt exchanged glances while getting ready to go and Newt flashed Thomas a dazzling smile, Thomas found that maybe he had another driving force the others didn't.

When they were on the move again, everyone walked. No one voiced it, but no one needed to- there was just not enough energy to run in the damned heat. So they walked, their sheets over their heads, doing little to diminish the discomfort. The constant moving was almost too much to bare, but when Thomas glanced over and searched those brown eyes for encouragement, he found it every time. 

Soon, nightfall arrived and the Gladers gladly began running. The sudden coolness of the air was almost enough to bring tears to Thomas' eyes. But, eventually, at around midnight, they needed sleep again. Trudging through the heat in the daytime was proving to be very taxing on their energy. 

So Newt and Thomas found themselves under their sheet again. Thomas was laying on his side with his right arm outstretched across the sand; Newt's head on it, using it as a pillow. Thomas' arm was already starting to twinge and buzz as it fell asleep under Newt, but he didn't mind. A sore arm would be worth it, as long as Newt was comfortable.

And apparently he was, because as Thomas was listening to Newt tell stories about him, Minho and Alby and the other Gladers in the beginning of the Glade-- stories in which Thomas loved to hear, and even more so because of the way Newt's eyes lit up when he told them-- Newt's word began slurring, his accent destroying some words and making them gibberish. It wasn't long after this that his eyes fluttered shut and he was asleep. 

Thomas smiled and scooted closer to him, draping his other arm off Newt's hip and letting his own severe fatigue take him, where he fell into another deep sleep with another strange dream-- memory. 

 

They were only ten or eleven in that dream, Teresa and him. Teresa was using the silent treatment as persuasion to urge him on to learning their little telepathy trick. It seemed Teresa was always better at it. But, he did it. And despite the fact they were in a plain, daunting room somewhere in WICKED, being forced to learn this- they smiled. 

 

 

The affects of the dream didn't last. Thomas awoke to the wind pulling at his face and hair and clothes. It was still dark, and despite the warmth from Newt's back which was now against Thomas' torso, he was shivering slightly. Thomas couldn't figure out what was wrong until he looked around and saw the others, sleeping under their sheets. His sheet was gone. 

Thomas jumped to his feet and looked around, soon realizing it was useless. His and Newt's sheet was probably long gone by now with the wind. Thomas' shoulders slumped and he was just about to lay back down, take the warm little thing that is Newt into his arms, and go back to sleep when he noticed the black clouds rolling overhead. 

Thomas smiled a little, thinking of how nice rain would feel- maybe it would last into the day and the heat wouldn't beat down on them so hard. He dropped down and pulled Newt against him, drifting back to sleep shortly after. 

 

Though it wasn't rain Thomas woke up to. 

The faint light of dawn woke him. Most of the other Gladers were already up, all of them gazing around at the oncoming storm. Thomas couldn't hear what they were saying over the rumble and roar of the clouds. 

Minho noticed Thomas was awake and made his way over, the wind ripping at his hair and clothes, "'bout time you woke up!" Even though he had his hands cupped over his mouth, Minho still had to shout. 

Newt was stirring as Thomas got to his feet, "what's with this!? I thought we were in the middle of a desert!" he yelled back. 

Minho seemed tired of the shouting and took a step forward, speaking into Thomas' ear, "I guess the desert needs rain, too. Come on, eat up, we gotta get going." 

Thomas nodded and finished rousing Newt from sleep, helping him stand. They shouted briefly over the wind and then began walking, eating granola bars as they went. 

The cities were growing, their true size finally starting to become evident- they were giants. Thomas and Newt walked, hand-in-hand since it wasn't so hot and they didn't really have a sheet to look after anymore. Thomas did a double take when he saw a man lying in the sand, wrapped in several blankets. 

It wasn't long before the startled Gladers were in a circle around the man. The man was so old, wrinkled- his head covered in sores and scabs where his hair should've been. But yet, despite his appearance, he was alive. Breathing deeply, but he only stared up at the sky. Thomas wondered if the man even noticed the boys encircled around him. 

"Hey! Old man! What're you doing here!?" Minho shouted. 

Thomas frowned; he strained to here Minho's words over the wind, he doubted this old man heard a thing. Thomas knelt beside the old man and waved his hand in front of his eyes, wondering if maybe the old-timer was blind. He didn't respond in any way. 

Newt knelt beside Thomas and shouted over the wind, "this guy could be a bloody gold mine if he could tell us stuff about the city. He seems harmless, too." 

"Yeah," Thomas sighed, "but I don't know if he can see or hear us..." 

"Keep trying!" Minho urged, "you're officially the foreign ambassador of our group, Thomas." 

"Sir?" Thomas asked, scooting as close as he could to the old man and leaning in, "we really, really, really need your help!" he shouted, feeling bad for having to do so. "Can you tell us anything about that city ahead? About what to expect? We can carry you there if you need help yourself, sir!" 

The old man's eyes slowly found Thomas', some sort of awareness in them. His lips parted, but only a small cough escaped them. 

"My name is Thomas, these are my friends. We've been traveling a couple days and..." Thomas' voice trailed off when the old man's eyes began darting around, frantic. "It's okay, we won't hurt you." Thomas said as gently as he could while shouting, "but we could use-" 

Suddenly, the man's hand shot out from under the blankets and took Thomas' wrist tightly. Thomas let out a startled yelp and felt Newt's panicked hands on his shoulders, but despite Thomas' struggling, the old man just shook his head and said something lost to the winds- and his eyes, they weren't angry and insane, they were fearful. Worried. 

Thomas looked over his shoulder at Newt, his eyes alive with concern. "It's okay," Thomas assured, "just hang on." 

Thomas turned back to the man and leaned in closer, relaxing his arm. Not that he would've been able to free himself anyways; the man had seemingly impossible strength. "What'd you say!?" he shouted over the increasingly louder rumble of the storm. 

The man spoke again, his voice rattled miserably. Thomas only caught a couple words; storm, terror, bad people. 

"One more time!" Thomas said, straining his hearing. 

"Storm coming... Full of terror... brings out... stay away... bad people." That time, Thomas only missed a few words. 

Suddenly, making Thomas yelp again, the man shot into a sitting position. "Storm! Storm! Storm!" he chanted, his eyes mad and terrified. He released Thomas' arm and Thomas scooted away until he felt Newt against his back- Newt was standing now. Thomas decided he should do the same. 

The man continued his shouts of the same word as Thomas stood, and as if on cue, the winds started gaining strength right then and there. Newt had to help steady Thomas, the wind almost taking him right down. The ridiculously powerful gusts were stealing Glader's balance and their sheets. Minho stood nearby, frantically flailing his arms and bouncing on his heels to get everyone's attention. Trying to shout wouldn't work now, the air was practically screaming, howling. 

Once everyone was packed in tight, Minho pointed to the city. The closest building couldn't have been more than a half an hour away, and so they started running. 

 

 

The closer they got the city, the harder it became to see it. 

The winds were like weapons, slamming into the Gladers and throwing up dust and sand madly. As if its brute force wasn't enough, it was pelting Thomas with dust and small rocks that gathered in his eyes and stung his face. 

But then the lightning came. 

They were a little over half way there when it started coming down. And Thomas wished now that he could go back to the intense heat, anything would be better. The bolts struck the earth in jagged streaks. The noise they made was one of the worst Thomas had ever heard; it cracked so loud that Thomas slowly lost hearing. He just hoped it wasn't permanent. Though he wouldn't be surprised, the lightning's sound alone was deadly. 

People were stumbling all around him, but he mainly kept his eyes on Newt, watching him like a hawk. He helped Newt to his feet after he fell, Frypan too along the way, but he didn't stop running. He couldn't, he just hoped that Newt knew that and stayed close. 

Soon, a lightning bolt struck a Glader- yet another Thomas hadn't gotten to know. He was unrecognizable, charred to a crisp. 

The sky darkened and the dust thickened, and suddenly Thomas realized he couldn't see anyone anymore. He wanted to call out to Newt, maybe Newt could still hear and find Thomas, hold onto him or something. But Thomas knew the dust and sand would find its way in his throat and choke him. Panic drumming and pulsing along the sides of his head like a bad migraine, Thomas kept running, praying to whoever'd listen that Newt was okay and nearby and that it stayed that way. 

Moments after this thought, Thomas wished Newt wasn't nearby. 

A jagged, blinding bolt struck the ground just in front of him. He went flying back, his skin crawling with a buzz of electricity. He gasped and the static in the air vibrated his throat, making him panic for a moment. He scrambled to his hands and feet and froze when he saw a kid in front of him- Jack, if he remembered correctly. 

And it was bad. 

He had been hit directly. No hair, skin black and blistered, his eyeballs were... melted. His clothes were gone and his chest heaved and stuttered, but worst of all was his leg. It was gone. From shin down, it was gone. Thomas turned and vomited, and he wondered if it was from the sight, or the fact that poor Jack was still alive. 

Thomas wasn't sure what to do, but he didn't have to be. Minho yanked him up and yelled something. From reading his lips, it looked like; 'We have to go, nothing we can do.' 

And Minho was right. 

It was sickening that Thomas and Minho ran, leaving Jack there, but they did. And once again, a cold sweat broke out over Thomas, his cheeks flushing and his heart racing-- he was so worried about Newt, unlike he had ever been before. 

He and Minho ran, and Thomas didn't think about anything other than Newt. Every shadow of a Glader he saw nearby made his head spin with questions. Lightning came down steadily, and every Glader that fell made Thomas panic- what if it was Newt? 

But then a new issue presented itself; another bolt came down right in front of Thomas, again, throwing him, again. But this time, someone was running, flailing- fire over his body. 

And it was Minho. His clothes were on fire. 

Thomas shrieked despite the fact he couldn't hear it. Minho fell to the ground and did his best to roll while Thomas dropped to his knees, shoveling the loose and now somewhat damp sand over Minho's body. He scooped it over him frantically, aiming for where the fire was most bright. In a matter of stressful seconds, the fire was out. 

Though, Minho had searing wounds resembling whiplashes across the skin that was uncovered. Thomas was glad he couldn't hear Minho's agonized cries. Regardless, Thomas knew they didn't have time to stop. Thomas grabbed Minho and started pulling him to his feet, "Come on!" he shouted, once again not hearing his own voice. 

Minho looked so miserable and pained and Thomas wished he could be gentler, but the leader still nodded and wrapped an arm around Thomas' neck. They moved together, towards the building as fast as they could. 

Lightning rained down around them, sending boys and sand and whatever else flying. The sky was black and the air bitter and cold, the winds impossibly strong. But as they got closer, Thomas could start to make out some of the boys near him. He stumbled a bit when he saw Newt-- he was okay. 

And then, they were there. Newt and Thomas made it to the door at about the same time, and Newt ducked under Minho's other arm before wrapping it around his own neck and helping Thomas support him. Thomas let out a breath of relief as some of the strain on his shoulder was relieved, and the three hurried into the threshold. 

They set Minho down, and Thomas turned to look out the doorway, reaching out blindly somewhere to his side. His peripherals were correct, and he grabbed Newt's arm, pulling him right up against him as he stared outside. It was black, but the winds were strong- though they seemed less severe, and actual rain was starting to come down. 

Thomas didn't care anymore. He and Newt dragged their fatigued bodies to a wall and sat there. Newt laid his head across Thomas' lap and Thomas could feel Newt's racing pulse almost anywhere Thomas placed his hand. Newt's body trembled, but somehow Thomas knew it wasn't from the cold or exhaustion. 

Thomas closed his eyes, all his energy long, long gone. He clung to the fact that Newt and Minho were alive and... mostly well. But Thomas didn't fight the heavy, helpless feeling that pressed down on him.


	15. Chapter Twenty-Five/Twenty-Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homework kills me. I'm gonna take a break, post two updates, maybe a one-shot... Just gonna procrasinate as much as possible!!! I'll regret it later XD 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

The rain fell with the weight of the world itself. 

Thomas and Newt sat against the wall, sitting huddled together. Minho lay at their feet, occasionally writhing in his fitful sleep. Thomas wanted to talk to Newt, ask him if he was okay, ask him if his leg was bothering him, ask him if he needed anything. Not that Thomas had much to give, but he'd do whatever he could. But he couldn't talk to Newt; not if he wanted to hear the response, anyways. Thomas wondered if he was the only one who was deaf, but no one said much, though after all they just went through that could be for any reason. 

But as two hours dragged on of them just sitting there, Thomas could almost hear the rain. Almost; he more felt it, but its heavy drops hitting the roof made a drumming sound, one Thomas could almost hear. Almost. 

Minutes ticked by, and the rain grew louder. He could hear. Not well, but it was coming back. 

The relief of knowing he wouldn't be deaf forever and the soft thrum of the rain was enough to lull him into sleep. 

***

When Thomas awoke, it was to sunshine. And silence. The storm was over. But a certain stiffness and soreness took over him and he cringed; hunger. 

He pushed it aside for now. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked around the building they were in. If you could call it that. Massive holes ripped in each and every floor that led up the roof. His attention didn't last long, pain stabbing his stomach. He glanced around, seeing most of the other Gladers asleep. Except Newt. He was beside Thomas, still, but there was more space between them now. He was just staring sadly at nothing, he probably hadn't even noticed Thomas was awake. Newt's sad eyes brought a pang of misery over Thomas. 

"You okay?" Thomas asked, it was heavenly hearing his own voice. 

Newt's eyes took a long time to detach themselves from whatever trance they were gazing upon, but he snapped back and looked at Thomas, "okay? Yeah, I'm okay. We're alive. You're alive." Hearing Newt's voice was more than heavenly, Thomas just wished there wasn't such sadness in it. 

Newt smiled, and Thomas did too. It felt so good. "You're right." 

Newt nodded, then dipped his head at Minho, scooting over to Thomas, "what bloody happened to him?" 

"Lightning caught his clothes on fire. We were able to beat out before it did too much damage, I think." Thomas answered, resting his hand on Newt's knee. 

Newt and Thomas watched Minho sleep for a moment, the worry for their friend was thick and Thomas could feel it radiating from him and Newt. Newt had his knees pulled up to his chest, sitting to Thomas' left. Newt reached his right hand over and took Thomas' right hand- it was a bit of an awkward stretch, but Thomas didn't feel like taking his left hand- the one closer to Newt- off Newt's knee so they made it work. Newt rested his head on Thomas' shoulder and suddenly gave his hand a squeeze, "I was so worried about ya." 

Thomas closed his eyes, keeping the wave of emotion back. "I know exactly what you mean." He said, turning to look at Newt. "Every time someone fell, I thought I was going to be sick. I knew I couldn't stop, but I didn't want it to be you, I just wanted you to be okay, I-" 

Newt cut off Thomas' shaky rambling with a kiss. Thomas shut his eyes, beating down the swell of pain in his chest from the lingering feel of dread he felt during that storm. It was almost too much. But the kiss didn't end right away, and the feeling faded. Once again, Newt was saving him. 

They pulled away after a full minute. "Tommy," Newt said softly, eyes not even open yet, "stop bloody talkin' about it or I'm gonna start crying like a baby." 

Thomas laughed softly and turned his body towards Newt, wrapping his arms around Newt tighter than he ever had. Newt returned the hug and Thomas felt a couple aches and pains, but he didn't mind it. 

They just held each other, racing hearts and with a desperate grip. They could've lost each other, and that was enough to keep them connected- practically sewn together for a long, long time. 

They would've remained that way longer if Minho hadn't shifted and spoke. "Ohhhh," he moaned, the agony in his voice was heartbreaking, "I'm shucked. I'm shucked for good." He rolled slowly and painfully, eyes squeezed shut. He remained still for a moment before his eyes fluttered open and looked over at Thomas and Newt, "why are you guys always being gross?" 

Newt pulled away with a smirk and rolled his eyes. But then a sincere worry found his face, "how bad is it?" 

Minho didn't answer, instead he pushed himself into a sitting position. Thomas almost cringed watching him do it. Minho's clothes were ragged and black, and in some places skin was exposed-- blistered, raw and seeing those spots left a burning sensation over Thomas' body just from looking at it. "Can't be too bad if you can do that," Thomas offered with a little smile. 

"Please, I'm tough as nails. I could still kick your pony-lovin' butt with twice this pain." Minho retorted effortlessly, making Thomas feel relieved- he definitely hadn't lost his fire. 

Thomas laughed, in a much better mood to have Newt and Minho alive and well and with him. "I do love ponies. Wish I could eat one right now," he said, making his stomach grumble. 

"Was that a joke?" Minho asked, looking at Newt, "did Thomas the boring slinthead just make a joke?" 

"I think he did," was Newt's response, a big grin on his face. 

"I'm a funny guy," Thomas said with a shrug. 

Newt threw his head back with a laugh and the sound lifted Thomas' spirits so high Thomas felt the slightest hint of vertigo. 

Though when Minho started counting the remaining Gladers, the mood dropped a couple notches. Only eleven- that was all that was left. A brief and heavy silence fell over them until, thankfully, Aris scooted over. "Anyone ever seen a storm like that before?" He asked. 

Thomas shook his head. "Even with my scattered memories, I don't think I've ever seen anything like that." 

"Let's just be glad it's over," Newt said, nodding towards the sunlight, "sun's out, storm's gone. I guess we should start plannin' what we're gonna do from here." 

Minho nodded, "we gotta pull everyone together. And we really need to find some food." 

Thomas almost whimpered at the last word- he wanted food so badly. 

"Food?" 

Thomas' body flinched and he instinctively pulled Newt tight against him. A face was looking down at them from the shredded remains of the third floor. A young, wild-eyed Hispanic man. "Who're you?" Minho shouted. 

Then, making Thomas question if he was imaging things, the man jumped through the jagged hole, dropped through the third and second floor and at the last second, pulled himself into a ball, rolled three times on the ground, then popped up and landed on his feet. "My name's Jorge, and I'm the Crank who rules this place." 

 

 

No one said a thing; everyone just as baffled as Thomas. "You people forget how to talk? Or just scared of Cranks? Think we're gonna eat your eyeballs? That actually does sound good right now. Tastes like under cooked eggs." 

"You admit you're a Crank? That you're freaking crazy?" Minho piped up, still looking baffled. 

Jorge threw his head back laughing, "Come, come, new friends. I'd only eat your eyes if you were already dead." Suddenly, his happy vibe shattered into pieces and a sharp look of warning came over his face, "though I can help you get that way if I need to, know what I'm saying?" 

Thomas' nerves stood on end and he pulled Newt closer against him if that was even possible. Thomas decided then that Jorge was a threat. "How many of you are here?" Newt asked and Thomas just wanted to throw his hand over Newt's mouth-- wishing Newt wouldn't draw attention to himself. 

Jorge flicked his gaze over at them and studied them, all huddled and close. There was a glint of some kind of curiosity or something in his eyes, but he didn't address it, "How many? How many Cranks? We're all Cranks around here, hermano." 

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Newt replied a bit too confidently for Thomas' liking. 

Jorge eyed Newt for a moment before beginning to walk around and over Gladers towards them, "you guys need to learn how this city works. How everyone here is a Crank, and how everyone has the Flare, and how you do too and it's too late for you and any of us." Jorge stopped just short of stepping on Minho, staring down at Newt. "But that's not how it's gonna work, comprende? Those at a disadvantage speak first so," Jorge bent over, leaning in, never taking his eyes off Newt, "I want to know everything about you and your friends. Now." 

Thomas had to fight the urge to snap at him or push him away from Newt, but he held his tongue. He knew better. 

Apparently Minho didn't. 

Minho let out a low, dangerous chuckle, "We're the ones at a disadvantage? I'd say there's eleven of us and one of you. Now who did you say was at a disadvantage? Maybe you should start talking." 

Jorge's attention finally left Newt and if Thomas had thought the way Jorge looked at Newt was bad, then this was absolute evil. His stare was blank but with such an edge, such a dark energy behind it it gave Thomas chills. He trained it on Minho, "you didn't just say that to me, did you? Please, hermano, tell me you didn't just say that to me. You have ten seconds to apologize." 

Minho just smirked. 

"One. Two. Three. Four." 

Thomas shot Minho a look; pleading with his eyes for his friend to just do it. 

"Five. Six." 

"Do it," Thomas said aloud. 

"Seven. Eight." 

As Jorge's voice rose, Thomas could've sworn he saw movement over head. Jorge wasn't alone; Thomas knew it. Thankfully, Minho might've seen it too because he spoke; "I'm sorry." he blurted out with little feeling. 

"I don't think you meant that." Jorge said. 

Then he kicked Minho in the leg. 

When Minho cried out, Thomas' hands clenched into fists and he had to wrap an arm around Newt's waist to keep him back. If there wasn't Cranks overhead, Thomas would've released Newt and sat back, watching the show. Jorge wouldn't have been a problem anymore. 

"Say it with meaning, hermano." 

Thomas glared up at this Crank. The urge to beat him down was almost scary- his knuckles tinging with need to slam into Jorge's face. When Minho didn't say anything, Jorge pulled his leg back and kicked the exact same spot twice as hard, "with meaning, hermano!" he shouted.

Minho wailed and clutched his leg with both hands, "I'm... Sorry," he whined through heaving breaths. But as soon as Minho's humiliation had satisfied Jorge, Minho was on him, swinging his arm into the Crank's shin and bringing him down. Minho had him pinned under him in a matter of seconds, punching over and over. 

More waves and flashes of movement above. Thomas panicked, "Minho!" he shouted, "stop!" He scrambled to his feet and rammed into Minho with all he had. Thomas recovered from the two of them sprawling across the floor quicker than Minho and pinned his arms down, squeezing his thighs to keep Minho's body down, "Minho, stop!" he screamed, "there's more of them! They'll kill you! They'll kill all of us!" 

Thomas glanced back at Jorge was staggering to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth with such a murderous look in his eyes that Thomas almost ran over and pulled Newt far away from him. "Wait!" Thomas cried out, "please wait!" 

Jorge looked at Thomas, the two of them made eye contact as other Cranks came from above. Some jumped and rolled like Jorge, others slid down ropes. All of them quickly gathered behind their leader, their looks just as nasty as Jorge's. Thomas rose his hands, slowly moving on his knees off Minho. He had to do something quick or these people would kill Newt. Minho, too. Everyone. 

"Please give me a minute," Thomas said, addressing them all and hoping his voice didn't reflect his fear, "we're more useful to you alive." 

Then Jorge glared and ever so slight cocked his head. Right on cue, his people pulled out nasty weapons. Jagged, dirty, sharp. Thomas knew in that moment that he was pleading for their lives, all of their lives. "Listen," Thomas said, slowly getting to his feet, "there's something about us. We're not just random shanks who showed up on you're doorstep. We're valuable, we're special. Alive, not dead." 

Jorge's face relaxed just a bit, curiosity sparking in his eyes. But what he said was; "What's a shank?" 

Thomas laughed for about a nano second despite the situation. He met Jorge's eyes, "You and me. Ten minutes. Alone. That's all I ask, bring all the weapons you want." 

Jorge laughed, a snort. He shook his head for a moment, then met Thomas' eyes again. "Ten minutes. Rest of you guys stay here and watch these punks. If I give the word, start slaughtering." Jorge glanced at Newt, then back at Thomas. He gave Thomas a warning with his eyes that Thomas understood loud and clear, as if Jorge had painted it on a banner and presented to him with a handful of confetti. Thomas bit his tongue and nodded; this was going to be the most important ten minutes of his life. 

With that, the two started towards a separate room behind broken doors. The meeting was about to begin.


	16. Chapter Twenty-Seven/Twenty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS UPDATE IS SO LAAAATE!!!! I am so sorry my dears, I had my Student-Led Conference today until like six and then, for once, my mom wasn't working so we made nachos, got some ice cream and watched a scary movie :) It was nice. BUT I AM HERE TO UPDATE NOW. 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Nerves on end, Jorge and Thomas walked through the dark hallway. 

When they reached the desired room, Thomas could notice nothing more than the stench of mildew and rot. The small room had no furniture besides two small wooden chairs. "Sit down." Jorge said, doing so himself.

Thomas obeyed and sat across from him, trying not to shrink under the intensity of Jorge's stare. "Talk." Jorge said flatly.

Thomas did his best not to hesitate, but he at least wished he had a minute to plan out his words. Though he knew he didn't have that luxury, not with Newt and Minho outside at the mercy of Cranks' blades. "Look, I heard you mention WICKED. It'd be really interesting to know what you guys know about them." 

"I'm not the one talking right now, hermano." 

"Right," Thomas murmured, glancing down briefly, using the briefest moment to collect some sort of coherent thought. "We used to be a group of about fifty guys, one girl. Now we're down to eleven. WICKED is some kind of organization that's doing a whole lot of nasty things to us for some purpose..." 

Thomas paused a moment, looking to see if Jorge had anything to say, but the man watched Thomas with an unreadable expression. So Thomas nodded and told him- everything. He left out some romance between him and Newt, though. He figured he shouldn't stress how important Newt was to him; he never knew if Jorge would turn on him and strike at Thomas' weakness. 

"So hermano," Jorge started, looking interested now, just a little. "What's your point?" 

"If you... Helped us, through the city, to the safe haven- you could get it, too. The cure, I mean." Thomas said, looking up at him. 

Hope flashed across Jorge's face so fast Thomas almost missed it, but it was there. Jorge looked over him for awhile, "what's your name?" 

"Thomas," Thomas said, surprised by the question. 

"You go by something else? Tommy, maybe?" 

'Not to you,' Thomas thought rather bitterly. "No, just Thomas." He replied. 

Jorge nodded. He asked Thomas some questions about WICKED, some about the Flare. Mostly just repeated what Thomas had heard a million times by now. Jorge seemed to be thinking about the proposition out loud as he discussed it with Thomas. Then he said the most relieving words Thomas had heard from him; "I believe we have ourselves a deal, hermano." 

Then he said the worst he had ever heard from him; "But Minho, the one who attacked me. He dies." 

 

 

"No." 

Thomas didn't even need a second to think about it. Newt and Minho meant more to him than anything else at this point, and there was no way in Hell he'd willingly let one of them get hurt, much less die. 

Of course, Thomas tried to play it off like Minho was the most valuable asset they had-- that killing him would be the worst possible choice. In reality, though, he was just saying whatever he needed to. 

And it worked. 

Jorge agreed to spare him. They were still going- and apparently the other Cranks weren't going. Except for one named Brenda, apparently- according to Jorge- she was a genius. 

"Now listen, hermano. When we go out there, don't say a word. No matter what I say, just keep your mouth shut." Jorge said as they stood. 

Thomas wanted answers, wanted to know the plan, but Jorge wouldn't budge. Thomas knew he had no chance to get the Crank to explain, so they made their way back out. Thomas hated seeing all these people pointing weapons at his friends, at Newt. Newt's eyes found Thomas from across the room and he flashed him the slightest look at fear. It was all Thomas could do not to push all these Cranks out of the way and hold him. 

"Everyone listen!" Jorge called out, grabbing his people's attention. "First off, we need to get these people food. Second, I've decided not to kill the punk that attacked me." 

Jorge glanced at Thomas, giving him a certain look before continuing. "Although, he punched me with both hands. So we're going to remove a finger from each hand."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really rushed and kinda crappy, I'm sorry XD It's super late here. But I don't have school tomorrow and will provide MUCH better updates, I swear!!!


	17. Chapter Twenty-Nine/Thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The snow is coming down like crazy here! What's the weather like where you guys are? 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Thomas held his concerns to himself; thinking about Jorge's look. Thomas couldn't see what it could possibly be, but he must've had a plan. He had to. 

Minho, on the other hand, was coming unhinged. He shot up and was about to charge when the girl Thomas assumed was Brenda, put her blade under his chin, drawing the thinnest line of crimson that shone against the sunlight. "Here's the plan," Jorge said calmly, "Brenda and I will escort these moochers to the stash and let 'em eat. Then we'll all meet on the Tower in, let's say, an hour." 

"Why just you and Brenda?" Someone asked. 

"Because we can handle them. Now why don't you just make sure everyone else gets up that Tower? Now get!" Jorge said without missing a beat. 

They all waited for the Jorge's people to leave. Once gone, Brenda removed her knife from Minho's neck, assuring Minho that she would've killed him. Minho didn't seem to care, he was just interested in flirting. He got shot down, obviously. 

"Alright, let's go." Jorge said. 

"No way. If you think I'm gonna go have a sit-down with you psychos while you cut off my fingers, you're crazy." Minho snapped harshly. 

"Minho, just shut up for once," Thomas snapped, doing his best to give Minho a look he'd understand. "Let's just go eat." 

Minho looked confused, but his features softened after a moment- he got it. He just nodded. Thomas looked relieved and as he was going to turn towards Newt who was making his way over, he found himself face-to-face with Brenda. "You the leader?" She asked. 

Thomas almost recoiled at the somewhat intrusive closeness. "Uh no, that would be Minho." 

She eyed him up and down before speaking again, "Hmm. I may be losing it, but I know I would've made you the leader. You're sweet." And with that, she stood on her toes and placed a kiss on Thomas' cheek. 

Thomas didn't have time to react before Newt rushed over and waved his arms around between them, separating them. "Okay, that's enough of that!" 

Brenda looked completely lost, but her eyes found Thomas again. She grinned, "I like you." She said to Thomas before spinning on her heels and following Jorge. 

Thomas watched her leave, then almost flinched when he saw the look Newt was giving him. "Why didn't you tell her not to do that?!" Newt snapped, hands on his thin hips. 

Thomas panicked and shrugged a little, "I don't know! It didn't occur to me!" He said, shocked at how much he sounded like he was pleading for his life. Maybe he was. 

"Because you liked it?" He snapped, "cause it really seemed like ya did." 

"Yeah it did." Minho added stupidly. 

"Shut the hell up, Minho." Thomas snapped, then bent his knees so he could wrap his arms around Newt's waist and be eye-level with him. He pulled him closer. "Where did you even get that from!? I did not! You're being crazy!" 

Newt pushed himself away from Thomas and Thomas didn't even know what hit him. Well, he did, it was Newt. But it was like one second he was holding Newt, then the next his cheek was burning and tingling. He winced and put his hand on his cheek, having no doubts there was one big hand print across it. 'Maybe calling him crazy wasn't so smart...' he thought. 

When he looked up to try to redeem himself, Newt was already disappearing through the doors that Jorge, Brenda and a handful of other Gladers did. Thomas slumped his shoulders and sighed. Minho walked by and patted Thomas shoulder, "looks like you're sleeping in the dog house." 

Thomas glared at him and Minho sheepishly pulled his hand away. "Don't get mad at me, I'm not the one who royally shucked up." He said, slinking off towards where the others went. 

Thomas groaned, then straightened himself up and started thinking of something to say to fix this. 

***

Thomas walked behind Newt, but Newt didn't turn around once or slow down. Thomas could literally feel his anger. But that didn't make Thomas give him space as Minho had suggested; anything could happen, he wasn't going to leave Newt's side. Eventually, they started down some steps that led into the pavement. Darkness swallowed them, and a blissful cool greeted them. Thank God for it, too; Newt already seemed less tense. They came to a room with a soft orange glow, filled with cans and boxes. 

"You guys can find a spot by the wall out there. We'll bring ya some tasty delights in a minute." Brenda said. 

Newt seemed annoyed just by the sound of her voice. They walked to the wall and sat against it, Newt keeping about ten feet between them. Thomas was going to say something, but when he sat down and found himself collapsing, he figured he should probably wait until he ate. He was certain he'd never get up again unless he ate something. 

***

They were given their "tasty delights"; canned pork and beans. It was cold, but it could've been a five-star meal and a bottle of champagne- Thomas wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. Thomas knew he should take it slow, but he couldn't help himself. After Brenda had passed out food to his friends, she went and sat next to Thomas, making Newt scoot farther away, fuming. 

Thomas frowned and, even though it was mean, wished Brenda would go away. But he decided maybe Minho was right- give Newt a minute, then talk to him. Thomas' main goal now was to make sure Brenda didn't get too touchy-feely, and find the words to apologize to Newt. After about ten minutes of not having Newt right up against him, he realized he'd apologize for anything just to get him back next to him.

"Taste good?" Brenda asked, snapping Thomas out of his thoughts. 

"So good," Thomas said through a mouthful. 

"You get sick of it fast. We only four or five options." She explained, digging into her own food. 

"I think it's fantastic," he said, not pausing once- shoveling spoonful after spoonful into his mouth. 

"I'd kill for a salad..." She murmured. 

Thomas and Brenda spoke about the Flare for awhile; all the while, Thomas glancing over at Newt to see if he had lightened up a bit. At one point, he looked over and Newt was already looking at him, but he looked hurt. Then Thomas realized how bad it must look; Thomas sitting and talking with Brenda after she kissed his cheek a minute ago. Thomas frowned and put his empty can aside, "I need to go talk to Newt." He said, starting to push himself up. 

Suddenly, Brenda looked panicked. And Jorge was whispering something at her side. Thomas decided making sure Newt knew that Thomas loved him more than anything and anyone was more important, though. He had just stood when a loud explosion sounded. Dust rolling down through the stairs they had just come down. Gladers got to their feet, some running away. Newt got to his feet and looked at Thomas and started towards him, looking just as panicked as Thomas felt. 

Then with another mighty rumble, an entire section of the roof came crashing down. The last thing Thomas saw of Newt was him noticing it and scurrying back like a small, frightened animal. Then they were completely cut off from each other- a wall of rock blocking Thomas and Brenda from everyone. From Newt. Thomas scrambled forward and slapped his hands against the rock, trying to find a weak spot, "Newt!" he screamed, his echo beating down on him and Brenda, "Newt!" 

Brenda grabbed Thomas' shirt, "Thomas, we have to go!" 

Thomas turned on her. "Stop touching me!" He yelled, pointing at the wall of rock behind him, "I can't leave here without Newt!" 

"They've got Jorge- Thomas, he won't let anything happen to him or any of them, but you and I need to go." She said sternly. 

Thomas frowned and took one last, longing look at the wall of rock as if it would just crumble and he'd see Newt waiting on the other side. As if he could scoop Newt up in his arms, apologize and never let him go. But none of that happened, so he turned and ran into the darkness with Brenda. 

 

 

They sprinted, long and hard. But Thomas didn't notice the pain his chest as painful breaths escaped his lips, he didn't notice the ache in his legs. All he could think about was the Gladers, Minho. Newt. His heart twisted; he always thought Newt would always be right there. He always thought he'd have the chance to protect him- Thomas never realized how much he took Newt for granted. If he saw Newt again, that was going to change. 

'When.' Thomas corrected mentally, 'when I see Newt again.' 

"Here!" Brenda yelled, "stick close to me," she said as they made a sharp right turn. 

"What about my friends?! Where are we gon-" 

"Can we talk about this later!? Just follow me, it's better if we all split up anyways!" She shouted as they moved deeper into the hallway. 

Thomas was on an unbelievable edge. But he knew they'd be okay; Especially, Newt. Thomas knew Newt could kick some serious ass- Thomas just had to hope they didn't run into a horde or something. Thomas had to shake away the image of Newt, Minho, Jorge and the other Gladers making their way through the city- looking for him and Brenda- and running into a horde of Cranks way past the Gone. There was only eleven of them, after all. 

They stopped for a moment, Thomas had plenty of questions. They were in a place, according to Brenda, called the Underneath. And Brenda suspected that Barkley had rigged an explosion where they had been; apparently the others in Jorge and Brenda's group were farther gone and were perfectly happy where they were. Then she said something that made Thomas have the sudden urge to slap her right across the face; "Ya know, I could get you through the city. You and I could forget the others and make it to the safe haven. It'd be easier without them all." 

Thomas shook his head, not going to even discuss this. "If you won't come with me, fine. But I'm going." And with that, he started walking. 

"Wait!" Brenda called out, rushing to catch up, she took Thomas' hand, "sorry, I'm just not real close with any of those Cranks. Not like you and your... Gladers." 

Thomas nodded, "It's okay. But we're going to find them or we're not going." 

She nodded, seeming less confident. Less in charge. Thomas pulled his hand from hers, faking a cough into his hand. He kept it close at his side when he dropped it again. They walked silently back where they had been. There were new holes in the roof, spilling thick sunlight into the tunnel. Thomas frowned, not sure where to go now. No one was here. 

"We need to go through the Underneath. If they went up top, they walked right into danger and are long gone. But if they're down here, we'll find them." Brenda said after some silence. 

Thomas felt something anchoring him to that spot; as if he waited there forever, Newt would pop that beautiful head through a hole in the roof and smile for him. But he knew better. He needed to find them- search for them. He needed to find them before something bad did. 

So when she started walking, he followed.


	18. Chapter Thirty-One/Thirty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter, lovlies :3 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

The Underneath was a dark, terribly plain place. Just gray walls, streaks of water trickling down the sides here and there. Thomas couldn't help what this place had been used for before the sun flares. They didn't talk much as they weaved through the tunnels. Thomas was okay with that- he felt guilty just talking to her. He couldn't stop thinking about the way Newt looked at him, the hurt in his eyes. Thomas almost slapped himself just thinking about it. 

The steady exercise helped keep his mind off his current situation for awhile, until he started thinking about running the Maze with Minho. Thinking about coming home to the Glade where Newt was waiting. It felt like years since they'd laid under the stars, whispering so not to wake Chuck. An odd sense of nostalgia hit him, he couldn't believe how solving the Maze and Grievers had once been their biggest problems. 

A loud pop of a bulb breaking snapped Thomas out of his thoughts. 

Brenda swung her flashlight towards the where they'd come from, but nothing was there but darkness and ugly walls. "What was that?" Thomas whispered. 

"An old light, I guess." She said, not sounding the least bit concerned. 

"Why would a lit just spontaneously break?" 

"I dunno. A rat?" 

"I haven't seen any rats. Especially not ones running on the ceiling." 

"You're right, a flying rat. We should get the hell out of here." She said mockingly. 

Thomas shook his head, "hilarious." 

Another pop, this time followed by the tinkle of glass sprinkling on the floor. It came from behind them, there was no doubt. Thomas also had no doubt it wasn't the Gladers. It sounded like someone was trying to freak them out, not find them. 

Brenda and Thomas locked eyes, and they both had the same terror in them. "We need to go." 

Brenda shone the light where the sound had most definitely come from. "Should we check it out?" she whispered. 

"Check it out?" Thomas asked, thinking maybe she was kidding. "No way, we should get out of here, just like you said." 

Thomas and her actually had to have a conversation about this. It was short lived. Suddenly, Brenda's face twisted into terror and she froze. Thomas swallowed hard, almost deciding to just not look. But he did. He slowly looked over at where the beam from her flashlight was aimed. 

A man stood there. 

He had a big smile on his face. His suit, which was probably nice once, was tattered and filthy. He shook and twitched. And Thomas couldn't take his eyes off the man's head- it looked like the hair had been ripped out, leaving only bloody splotches and scabs. One of his eyes was gone, an infected, gummy mass where it had once been. He also didn't have a nose, and Thomas could see the nasal passages in his skull underneath his mangled mess of skin. Then he spoke, the sound wet and gurgly, as if he was choking on his own mucus. 

"Rose took my nose, I suppose."

 

 

No one moved. No one except the man. 

He took a lumbering step forward, "Rose took my nose, I suppose." he repeated. "And it really blows." 

Thomas and Brenda stood completely still, rather close. Thomas could hear his own heart racing in his ears. 

"Get it?" The man said, his little smile twisting into a grin that looked difficult for him to hold. "It really blows. My nose. Taken by Rose. I suppose." Then he laughed and Thomas knew that sound was going to haunt him for a very, very long time. 

"Yeah, I get it." Brenda said, "that's some funny stuff." 

Thomas dared to look at her when he sensed movement. She had pulled a can from her backpack and gripped it tight in her right hand. Before Thomas could do a thing, she pulled her arm back and flung it at the Crank. He let out a terrible shriek. 

And with the Crank's awful shriek, two more appeared. Then three, then four more. All were just as hideous, just as Gone. And all were missing their noses. "That didn't hurt so bad." The leading Crank said, "you have a pretty nose. I really want a nose again. And so do my friends." 

Thomas terrified, so scared. He could feel it all over him, in his bones, spreading. The leading Crank took an uneasy step forward, then another. It was time to go. 

Brenda pulled out another can and threw it; neither of them waiting to see if it made contact. They turned and ran, their pursuer's psychotic wails urging Thomas' limbs to move faster. They had an advantage, with the Cranks looking like they'd fall apart at any time, but he didn't slow. Brenda took a sudden right and it was a good thing she grabbed Thomas' arm as she did so or else he'd have ran right past it. 

She took two more turns, then flicked off her flashlight. Suddenly they stopped and Brenda said she knew what she was doing. Her hand found Thomas' and lead him to this hiding place that she swore the Cranks would never find. "There's a table here, can you feel it?" She whispered. 

Thomas reached out his free hand until he felt the smooth table. "Yeah." 

"Duck under it, there's a hole- a hidden compartment. I have no idea what it's for, but the Cranks'll never find it." She whispered, pulling him under the table.

Thomas followed her lead. They crawled through a small square that led to a narrow, long compartment. Thomas and Brenda had to keep themselves pressed to the ground as the ceiling was only about two feet above the ground. Brenda pressed herself against the far wall and Thomas scooted back until he was against her. It was an awkward fit, but they made it work. 

Thomas forced his breath to slow, to be silent. 

It was heavily silent for awhile until somewhere out of the room Thomas could hear lunatic giggling and shouting. As they started entering the room, Thomas screwed his eyes shut. He felt Brenda grip him, making him slightly uncomfortable. It dawned on him that she probably had no idea about what he and Newt were. He made a mental note to tell her when the timing was a bit better.

"Little boooooy," the man said, his voice nothing more than creepy. "Little girrrrrrl. Come out come out make a sound make a sound. I want your noses." 

"Nothin' in here," a woman spat. "Nothin' but an old table." 

"Maybe they're hiding their noses under it. Maybe they're still attached to their pretty little faces." The man responded. 

The Cranks shuffled and wheezed across the room, moving the table and checking the ground underneath it. They didn't notice the hidden compartment. "I'm leaving," the woman finally said. 

"Me too, me too." The other man said. 

The leader, the first man they encountered began to yell, "shut up shut up shut up shut up! Go away go away go away!" 

Brenda's hands were gripping him tightly and Thomas honestly couldn't blame her. Then the ultimately relieving sounds of shuffling out the door; they were leaving. That didn't stop Thomas and Brenda from just laying there. Too scared to risk it just yet. They were quiet for such a long time before Brenda finally spoke, "I think they're gone," she said, flicking her flashlight on. 

"Hello noses!" a hideous voice yelled from the room. 

Then a bloody hand reached through the doorway and grabbed Thomas by the shirt.


	19. Chapter Thirty-Three/Thirty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update for my lovlies~ 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Thomas shrieked and swatted at the scarred and bruised hand. 

The Crank pulled, slamming Thomas' body against the wall. Pain burned through Thomas' entire face as it made contact with the concrete. The warm ooze of blood from his nose slipped down onto his lips. 

The Crank repeated the process- pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling. And Thomas slammed into the wall every time; the strength the man had seemed almost impossible, he was so broken- practically rotten. Brenda had her knife out and was trying to crawl over him to slash at the Crank's hand. 

"Careful!" Thomas cried, the knife a bit too close for comfort. Thomas grabbed the man's wrist with both hands and pushed with all he had, squirming and swatting- doing whatever he could do to free himself. 

When Thomas had no luck, Brenda screamed and went for it. She sent her knife right into the man's forearm, earning one hell of a wail. Thankfully, the Crank released Thomas. All Thomas could hear was the man's yells and cries. 

"We can't let him get away, hurry, get out there!" Brenda yelled. 

Thomas hurt all over, his face warm with blood. He would've liked nothing more than to curl up and stay there, but he knew Brenda was right. He began squirming out of the small space- if the man reached his friends, they'd be screwed. 

Thomas hurried out, staggering to his feet. He heard Brenda quickly making her way out, Thomas and the Crank locking eyes; the snarl he got made Thomas recoil ever so slightly. The man resembled a defensive animal more than he did a person. Once Brenda was out, they rushed over the Crank who was laying on the ground, half-whimpering and half-snarling on the ground in a fetal position. 

Suddenly, the man spun on his shoulder and kicked out his leg, sending Brenda crashing into Thomas. They both crumpled to the floor, the knife and flashlight clattering across the floor. Faster than seemed possible, the Crank was staggering to his feet and pursuing the knife. Thomas pushed himself up and dove for it, crashing into the man's knees and sending him crumpling to the ground. The man didn't miss a beat, swinging his elbow back. Pain erupted in Thomas' jaw and sent him on his back. 

Then Brenda was there; jumping on the Crank, hitting him in the face twice, then somehow spinning the man around so he lay on his stomach. She grabbed the Crank's arm and mercilessly pinned them to the Crank's back. The man briefly struggled, then started screaming. Piercing screaming. 

"We have to kill him!" She somehow managed to scream over it. 

"What?" Thomas asked, now on his knees. 

"Get the knife! Kill him!" 

The request was jarring. Kill him? He seemed inhuman yes, but that didn't change the fact that he was human. 

"Thomas!" 

Thomas crawled over to the knife, looking at Brenda. 

"Hurry!" She yelled, anger all over her face and in her eyes. He was taking too long. But Thomas didn't know if he could do this; if he could kill someone. Crank or not. But he got up, sauntering over to her, holding the knife as if it would turn on him. 

"I'm going to flip him, get him in the heart." She said firmly. 

Thomas was going to shake his head, but he knew that was stupid. This was an awful, terrifying thing, but it had to be done. And he had to do it. Brenda nodded and he nodded back. 

She let out a groan of effort as she threw herself backwards, pulling the Crank on top of her and managing to hold him somehow- despite his new fit of writhing and demonic screaming. 

And Thomas froze. 

He could hear her, yelling at him to do it now, but it wasn't that easy. Surely she knew that. Surely she knew killing someone was a big deal. Maybe she didn't know he'd never killed. Maybe she hadn't either. His heart seemed to shudder throughout his entire body, sweat stinging his eyes, his body aching. 

"Now!" 

Thomas used all his strength and plunged the knife deep into the Crank's heart. 

 

 

Thomas couldn't move, but he wanted to run far, far away. 

The Crank screamed, choked and spasmed under him. Under the blade he pushed into the man's chest. He wasn't dying fast enough, and Thomas was starting to panic. He twisted the blade, pushed it in deeper. Still, life took its time as it drained from the man's maddened eyes. 

But he did finally die. 

"We need to go," Brenda said, getting to her feet as soon as the Crank had gone limp. "Come on." 

Thomas utterly shell shocked at how unaffected she was by this. Though they didn't have much choice, either. Somewhere down the hall, Thomas could hear the other Cranks. So Thomas forced his beaten, tired body up and did what he could to push down the guilt of taking another person's life. "Fine, but no more of this." 

"What do you mean?" 

"The darkness. I want sunlight and I want it now." Thomas said. 

***

Brenda didn't argue, and he followed her eagerly. He could feel himself falling into some sort of darkness; and all he wanted was the one person who usually kept those things away- he wanted Newt. 

Brenda led them to a manhole. Moving the cover took a bit of focused effort, but he got it. And when Thomas crawled out, he found himself standing in gray twilight. There were bodies scattered around the dirty, broken city. For a moment, Thomas thought maybe they were the Gladers, but upon a second glance- he discovered the bodies were that of grown men and women, and much too decayed. 

Even still, Thomas didn't want to be around them anymore, so they started down the long, lonely street. 

***

They traveled until dark. By now, he had had plenty of time to think about how much he missed the Gladers, and how worried he was about them. He just wanted to see them. 

Eventually, they wound up in an alley. Thomas thought maybe it was a bad idea to stay somewhere where they could easily get trapped, but Brenda assured him it was fine. Thomas and Brenda ended up in a rusty old truck. Thomas sat behind the wheel, pushing the seat back as far as it would go. Surprisingly, he was comfortable once he got situated. 

Thomas was exhausted, sore, beaten, his heart heavy with guilt and longing for Newt. Thomas wanted nothing more to sleep, but remembered something he had to do. "Brenda?"

"Yeah?" She asked, scooting over towards him as far as she could without getting off her own seat. 

"Do you know about... Newt and I?" He asked, feeling somewhat awkward about bringing this up to her. 

She looked over at him and squinted her eyes, "... Your Glader friend?" she asked, not catching on. 

Thomas nodded, "yeah. Except, he's not my friend. He's more than my friend." He said, looking over at her. 

At first, she still wasn't catching on. But she was a smart girl, and realization lit up her eyes, "oh my gosh," she said, scooting away- trying to do it secretly, "I... Had no idea." she said, sounding utterly shocked. 

Thomas nodded a little, cheeks slightly burning. "Yeah. Sorry, I really should've told you sooner." He said, clearing his throat a little. 

Brenda laughed a little and shook her head, "dang sir, didn't see that one coming. Are you two close?" 

"Very," Thomas answered quickly, and his heart twisted once again at his absence. 

Apparently his face reflected it, because Brenda reached out and squeezed his hand, "Jorge's gonna keep him safe. He's a weirdo, but he's not weak or stupid. We'll find him and all your other friends, okay?" 

Thomas nodded. He didn't squeeze her hand, though. And it dawned on him that maybe she was just touchy-feely all the time. It still felt a little odd, but he was glad he told her, he felt so much lighter. It made him all the more excited to see Newt again, even though he was practically going nuts at the thought of having to wait another minute to see him. 

With that weight off his shoulders, Thomas somehow was able to find sleep.


	20. Chapter Thirty-Five/Thirty-Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am loving being able to sleep in :3 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Thomas awoke to an awful nightmare. 

He vividly saw Cranks, way past Gone- armed with knives and mad- cornering Newt and Minho. Thomas awoke when Newt's cry tore through the dream. He had to look around and make sure Newt wasn't actually screaming somewhere nearby; the sound had been so real. 

Calming his racing heart, he looked around. Still dark. 

"Bad dream?" Brenda asked. 

"Yeah," he murmured, settling back in. "I just can't stop worrying about them..." 

"I'm really sorry you guys got separated and all, but I also don't think you need to worry. Your Glader buddies seemed tough. And if they aren't, Jorge's one tough monkey." she said, doing her best at comforting. 

Thomas nodded, but didn't say anything. She was right, but anything could happen. He shook away the doubt, just wanting to see them soon. They went on to talk about how the Flare ravaged the land. Thomas found out that if it weren't for the Flare, all the countries that unified their governments would've been a complete success, the world would've pulled itself back together. 

Also, they were apparently in Mexico. Or what used to be Mexico. He was told about a numbing agent, that apparently only the rich could afford. The closest thing to a cure. 

Finally though, Thomas was tired again. And he somehow managed to fall asleep. 

This dream was a memory. It was just men and women that he and Teresa were spying on; talking about "patterns" and a "betrayal scenario". And how the future will thank them. 

***

When Thomas awoke this time, dawn was stretching across the sky. Though the dream made Thomas feel a little better; in the dream, they had been sneaking around, eavesdropping. It gave Thomas a bit of hope that they weren't involved in every aspect of the Trials. That he and Teresa didn't single-handedly torture their friends. 

He rubbed his eyes and stretched. Brenda was still asleep, but Thomas felt wide-awake and refreshed. Thomas looked around quietly, but noticed something on the wall of the alley. A sign. 

Curiosity got the better of him and pushed the door open as quietly as he could, stepping out of the truck. When Thomas could actually see the words, he stopped and stared for an easy five minutes. 

"Thomas, you're the real leader."

 

 

Thomas might've just stood there, staring at it all day if Brenda hadn't came out and joined him. "I was waiting for the right time to tell you," she finally said. 

That snapped Thomas out of his stupor and he turned to her, "what?" 

She didn't look at him, just at the sign, "Ever since I found out what your name was. Same with Jorge. It's probably the only reason he decided not to kill you and your friends and go through with this." 

Thomas could feel the anger rising in his chest. "Brenda, what are you talking about?" 

Finally, she looked up at him. "These signs. They're all over the city, and they all say the same thing." 

Thomas felt his knees weakening. "How is this..." he shook his head. "It looks like it's been here for awhile..." He didn't know what else to say, he was speechless. 

"I don't know. None of us knew what it meant, but when you guys showed up and you told us your name. We knew it couldn't be a coincidence." She said. 

Thomas' anger finally made a reappearance after the shock. He shot her a glare, "why didn't you tell me about this? Out of everything you've told me and with how close you always are to me-- you don't tell me this?" The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. 

"I didn't tell you because I was worried how you'd react. I was worried you'd leave me and go running around the city to find the signs..." she said. 

Thomas just let out a deep breath, letting the anger go with it. "Oh well." 

"But how can you not know what it means?" She asked, twisting her head up to look at the sign, then back at Thomas. "It means you're supposed to be the leader, take over things. I can help you. I'll earn my spot, earn a spot in the safe haven." 

Thomas snorted a laugh. "Here I am, in a whacked-out city, can't find my friends, have a group of girls who want to kill me, and I'm supposed to worry who the real leader of my group is?" 

Brenda furrowed her brow in confusion. "Girls who want to kill you? What?" 

Thomas hesitated, but he figured it was about time he told her everything. So he did, walking her through it all. A silence followed and Brenda looked up at him just briefly, "so you and Newt are really close?" 

Thomas frowned, not sure what to say; he didn't want to hurt her feelings. So he just nodded. 

She nodded slightly back, and they stood in silence for awhile. 

They had taken a seat on the ground and sat silently for awhile until Thomas heard a thumping sound. He was alert now, looking around. "Did you hear that?" 

Brenda had, she was at attention, listening hard. "Yeah. Sounds like someone beating on a drum." 

"Guess it's time to go," Thomas said, getting to his feet, Brenda doing the same. 

The drumming suddenly seemed to come from everywhere. Its echo bounced all over, but soon, Thomas could almost tell where it was coming from. He ran to get a look; his irrational side thinking maybe it could be the Gladers. Brenda followed, snapping at him not to go, but he ignored her. Thomas headed down the long alley. When he came to the end of it, there was a scratched, wooden door down some steps. One little, rectangular window sat above the door; with a shard of glass missing from it. 

Thomas could hear music from inside; screaming guitars, drums banging and the bass outrageously powerful. Inside, Thomas could also hear people singing and laughing. But none of it sounded very fun. It had an insane vibe to it- it sounded dangerous. Thomas knew this had nothing to do with his friends. 

"We better get out of here," he said to Brenda. 

"Ya think?" Brenda snapped, right at his side. 

Thomas nodded and they turned to leave; freezing once they did. Three people stood there. Two men and one woman, standing only a few feet away. Thomas could feel himself starting to panic. Though, from the intelligence in their eyes, they weren't full-Gone. They were Cranks, no doubt about it. But not fully Gone. 

"Hi there." The woman said. She had long, red hair pulled back into a ponytail. "Come to join our party? Lots of dancing. Lots of lovin'. Lots of booze." 

There was an edge in her voice, and somehow Thomas knew they weren't going to have a choice. "Um, no thanks, we were just-" 

Brenda cut in, apparently she knew what to say. "Looking for our friends. We're new here, just getting settled." 

"Welcome," one of the men said, tall and ugly, "don't worry, most of those Cranks down there are only half gone. You might get a little beat up, but not eaten." He looked at Brenda, "things might get a little worse for you if you don't stick close to us. What with you being female and all." 

This conversation was starting to make Thomas sick. "Sounds like fun, but we gotta go find our friends. We'll definitely come back, though." 

A short, but handsome man stepped forward. He held a certain confidence, and Thomas had no doubt he was the leader of the other two. "You two are just kids. Need some lesson about life nowadays. Need to have a little funny. You're officially invited to the party." he said, not a hint of kindness in his words. 

"Thanks, but no thanks." Brenda said. 

With that, Blondie pulled a gun from his pocket. "I don't think you understood me. You're invited to our party." 

Tall and Ugly pulled out a knife. Ponytail armed herself with a screwdriver. "So, let's try again. What do you say?" Blondie asked. "Want to come to our party?" 

Thomas glanced at Brenda, but she had her eyes trained on Blondie- and there was a familiar fire in them, the same fire he'd seen when she'd attacked the Crank who wanted their noses. "Okay," Thomas blurted quickly before she could get herself killed. "We'll go." 

Brenda looked at him, "what?" 

"I'm just not in the mood for having my eyeballs smashed into my skull," he said, nodding at Ponytail's screwdriver. 

"Your boyfriend's smart," Blondie said, making Thomas frown. "Now come on in." 

Thomas could feel the panic welling inside his chest. He took Brenda's hand, keeping in mind what Tall and Ugly had said, and then started down the stairs. Thomas was completely aware the gun was pointed to his back the entire time as reached the door. He was instructed to do a special knock, hating these guys more and more by the minute. The door opened immediately. 

The man at the door was huge, pierced and tattooed everywhere with long, white hair. 

"Hey, Thomas. We've been waiting for you."


	21. Chapter Thirty-Seven/Thirty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys, this one's reached over 1k hits! I love you all!! <3 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Thomas couldn't really tell what was going on. 

The welcoming statement had utterly shocked him, but he didn't have to time to address it before Long Hair was pulling them inside and leading them through the tightly packed bodies. Everyone was laughing and rubbing and hugging and jumping and spinning, it almost made Thomas dizzy. As they made their way through the dancers, Long Hair said something about the flashlights strung up on the ceiling, casting beams of swaying light throughout the room. 

"How'd you know my name?" Thomas yelled over the deafening music the best he could. 

"We've been watching you since last night- and when we saw your reaction to the sign, we knew you had to be the famous Thomas!" Long Hair replied, laughing. 

Brenda now had both arms wrapped around Thomas' waist, probably so she wouldn't get separated. Suddenly, Long Hair stopped and turned to them, a smile on his face that would've been welcoming and friendly if not for the situation. "We really want you to join us! And we'll protect you from the bad Cranks!" 

Thomas' mind was spinning. He figured that he and Brenda could sneak out unnoticed at some point. "I'll go get you a drink!" Long Hair announced, disappearing into the swarm of bodies. 

Thomas noticed Blondie and the others were still there. Not dancing, not laughing, just watching. Though they did suggest that they dance. No one moved. Thomas turned to Brenda, they needed to talk. She seemed to understand; she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close until her mouth was by his ear. Thomas' heart twisted again, and he thought maybe if he focused hard enough, he could pretend it was Newt in his arms. 

"How do we get out of this piece-of-crap situation?" she asked. 

Thomas sadly pushed the thoughts of Newt away, knowing he needed to focus on getting out of here if he was ever going to see him again. "That's a good question." 

"Maybe we could just stay here." Brenda said. 

"What're you talking about?" Thomas asked, shocked. They were dancing now, gently twirling and clasping each other. God, Thomas wished he was dancing with Newt. It dawned on him he'd never danced with Newt-- that was going to change. 

"Just tired. Maybe we'd be safer here." 

"Brenda, don't quit on me yet. We need to get the safe haven, get the cure." 

"It's hard to believe it's really there," she murmured. "Hard to hope." 

"Don't say that." He snapped, not wanting to think about that. 

"Why would they have sent all us Cranks here if there was actually a cure?" 

Thomas frowned and pulled away to look at her, worried by her sudden change in attitude. Her eyes were wet with tears. "You're talking crazy," he said. "The cure is real." he leaned back in to speak into her ear, just in case someone was listening. "We have to get out of here. These people are dangerous." 

She didn't have respond before Long Hair was back, two cups in each hand. "Drink up!" he called out. 

Thomas was starting to panic; he realized that it was probably an awful idea to drink it. It could be drugged. But Brenda was already reaching for her cup. "No!" he yelled, then raced to cover his mistake, "I mean no, I really don't think we should be drinking that stuff. We've gone a long time without water, we need that first. We just wanna dance for awhile." 

And then Thomas felt the pistol against the small of his back and Thomas took his cup, not doubting there was something in them now. 

Blondie still hadn't removed the gun so Thomas poured the drink down his throat. Finally, the weapon was gone. But he had already swallowed, and it felt like fire searing his insides. Brenda threw hers back and didn't seem to mind it going down one bit, despite a brief squeezing of her eyes. 

Thomas already felt something off. A soothing warmth started spreading over him, he tried to fight it, but it was impossible. Thomas and Brenda were in each other's arms again, swaying to the music. "What was it?" he asked in her ear, words already slurred. 

"Something bad." she said, "it's doing something funny to me." 

Almost as if on cue, the room started spinning. Brenda pulled her head away from Thomas and took his face in both hands. She stared at him, but her eyes seemed to jiggle and bounce. His mind was shutting down, he knew it. "Maybe it's better this way," she said, her words not syncing with her lips. 

"No Brenda..." he said, his voice sounded far away. 

"Kiss me," she said. "Thomas, kiss me." she was moving towards him. 

Thomas searched her face, but it wasn't his. It wasn't Newt's. "No," he said, resisting. 

She looked so hurt, "Why?" 

Thomas shook his head free of her hands, "because you're not him." Darkness had almost completely taken his vision, "you could never be him." 

And then she fell away, his mind doing the same. 

 

 

Thomas awoke in darkness, it felt like someone was pushing nails into his skull. He groaned, only succeeding in hurting his head more. He tried to reach up and rub his head when he realized his wrists were taped. He tried to kick out with his legs, but they were bound too. Pain shot through him all over; he went limp, moaning softly. 

"Brenda?" he whispered. 

A light came on. 

It felt like someone had just thrust a spear into his head. The light was so bright and stabbing, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. It took awhile, but he forced one open to a squint. Three people stood in front of him, but he couldn't quite see them- their faces shadowed out. 

Soon though, his eyes came accustomed to the light. Even though he could see them now, he knew anyways. Their stupid little comments had revealed them plenty; Blondie, Tall and Ugly and Ponytail. 

"Why didn't you just kill me in the alley?" Thomas spat, starting to get a bit of strength back. 

"Kill you? Who do you think we are? If we wanted you dead, you would've been for a long time now," Blondie said. 

Thomas heard a muffled groan and turned his head despite the slightest ache and saw Brenda; she was also bound, but her mouth was covered too. Blondie pulled a chair up in front of Thomas, pointing the business end of it at Thomas, "Thomas. We've got quite a lot to talk about. First question, who are you and why is your name on signs all over this piece of crap city?" 

"My name is Thomas and how I got here is a really weird city, I doubt you'll believe it. But I'm being honest, I swear." 

"Didn't you come on a Berg like the rest of us?" Ponytail asked. 

"Berg?" Thomas asked, not sure what that was. "No, we came through an underground tunnel about thirty miles or so to the south. Before that we went through a Flat Trans-" 

"Hold it, hold it. A Flat Trans? I'd shoot you right now, but there's no way you made that up." Blondie said, looking shocked. 

Thomas didn't know what to say, he just wrinkled his brown in confusion, "... Why?" 

"You came through a Flat Trans? Only government officials and billionaires can afford to use those." 

Thomas shrugged and went on to tell the entire story. Though, he left Newt out of it. He doubted these Cranks would ever find him, but he wasn't going to give them an angle like that. Tall and Ugly and Blondie exchanged glances. Tall and Ugly pulled out a long knife and just as he was going to cut the tape, a loud commotion started from the upstairs floor. 

"Another group must've found us," Blondie said, getting to his feet. 

And with that, the three were rushing up the stairs. Thomas didn't like their odds, taped to chairs when some sort of violent group was just above. Thomas strained his muscles and was starting to move his chair towards Brenda. He stopped when the sounds of chaos did. He froze- it was silent up there now. 

Then the door at the top of the stairs opened. 

Footsteps were coming down, running. A cold panic flooded Thomas as he waited to see who came down. 

Finally, someone stepped into the light. 

Minho. Dirty, bloody, knives in each hand. But. Minho. 

He flashed them a smirk. "You guys look comfy."


	22. Chapter Thirty-Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, only one chapter, but I wanted to get it in before I had to go!! Enjoy! 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Thomas was speechless. 

Minho smiled, and Thomas was at ease. "We'd just found you. Did you think we were going to let a bunch of shuck-faces hurt you? You owe me. Big time." 

Thomas had to contain giggles, but couldn't contain the smile that stretched across his face. "Frypan spotted ya when those Cranks had you at gunpoint. He came back, we got mad, then went and got your sorry butts." 

Minho cut them both loose. Thomas had to give standing up a second go, but once he was up, he felt much better. Much stronger. Brenda seemed angry with him, and with what he said to her, he could see why. But still, he said what he'd been thinking the entire time, "Newt's up there?" 

Minho smirked and nodded, "and here I was just getting used to not seeing you guys all over each other." 

Thomas rushed up the steps, not able to stop himself. When he had climbed all the steps, he took a look around. The Gladers had the Cranks on their knees, hands behind their head- with weapons. And standing right there, right in the middle, was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. 

Thomas was headed that way before he knew it, his heart racing, his body trembling just slightly. He could feel tears filling but he didn't care. Newt glanced over and when he saw Thomas, he dropped his weapon. Newt shook his head for a minute as if he didn't believe it, then smiled and ran to him. Amazingly, when Newt crashed into him, Thomas managed to catch his momentum and spin him without falling. 

Carefully, Thomas placed Newt back on the ground, but he certainly didn't let go. Thomas laughed, feeling a tear force its way out, "Newt, oh my god." 

Newt's voice shook as he desperately clung to Thomas, "are you okay?" 

"I'm fine." Thomas pulled away, gripping Newt's arms and looking into those brown eyes. And just like that, Thomas could breathe easy again, "Newt, I am so sorry. About Brenda- I told her what we were- I love you more than anything and anyone, Newt, I always have, I always will." 

Even as Thomas was pouring out the words, their lips were gravitating to each other. "Tommy, I don't give a damn anymore." 

Thomas let out a little laugh before they were kissing; needy and hard. Their bodies pressed right up against each other; Thomas could feel Newt's heart racing against his own. They pulled away after a long, long time to just look at each other. Breathing heavily, gripping onto each other as if one of them might disappear into thin air. 

"I love you," Newt said, his brown eyes wet with tears. 

"I love you, too." Thomas murmured, and in that moment, he was sure his heart would never stop racing like this. 

But he took a quick look around and realized something bad. "Newt, where's the leader? Blond, short one?" 

Newt looked around and shrugged, then back at Thomas, "must've gotten out. A couple did." 

Minho had heard him, "who cares? We'll be out of this shuck city in an hour. And we should go now." 

Thomas couldn't have agreed more. 

They made their way out, Thomas and Newt were linked again. Hands held tight and their bodies right up against each other. But Thomas noticed Brenda giving Thomas a half-dirty, half-sad look. Thomas frowned, but focused back on Newt and felt better. Though, he did swear to himself he'd get her alone later and apologize. He'd come to feel about her as he had about Chuck, like they'd come from the same mother. He didn't want her to hate him. 

They all stood around Minho, listening to him giving directions when someone yelled. 

"Hey!" 

Thomas looked just in time to see Blondie there, gun in hand. And before anyone could do a thing, he fired. 

And pure pain ripped through Thomas' shoulder, followed by one hell of a shriek from Newt.


	23. Chapter Forty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY THANKSGIVING MY LOVLIES!!!! (well I don't actually know if it's Thanksgiving where you are and if you celebrate it, but.) I've got to go with the family in a couple hours, so I'm gonna update then be on my way :)  
> So for this chapter, I am doing Newt's POV from when Tommy gets shot, to when he gets "rescued" by WICKED's berg (So basically only this one chapter, but oh well!). Hope you all enjoy :)  
> BTW: I just want it noted that in the book, Newt actually was the first one to be at Thomas' side :3 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Newt's heart stopped. 

He was frozen to his spot; and the world seemed to move in slow motion, seemed to get colder. Newt was screaming and running for Thomas before he even realized he was doing it. When Thomas' body whipped around and he hit the ground, the world just clicked back to full speed. 

Newt scrambled to the ground beside Thomas; behind him he could hear another shot go off, then a couple thumps, then the clatter of the gun on the ground. Minho handled it. Thomas rolled onto his back, clasping his shoulder and whimpering. Newt placed a hand on Thomas' face, "Tommy, oh my god." 

"He shot me." He murmured, looking up at Newt with frightened eyes. Newt's heart twisted. 

"Newt." 

Newt looked up to Frypan who was holding out a shirt for him. Newt nodded and gave Thomas a sympathetic look before firmly pressing it against his wound. Thomas' cry made Newt flinch. 

Newt watched Thomas' gaze fading- hazed and weak. Newt rested his forehead against Thomas', and Thomas' writhing died down a bit. "Pass out, Tommy." he mumbled, feeling like he was begging. Maybe he was. 

"I can get that sucker out of him," Jorge spoke up, standing somewhere behind Newt. He didn't look back to see him, but he could feel him there. "I'll just need fire." 

At that though, Newt snapped up and looked at him, shaking his head. "We can't do that here." 

"Let's get out of this shuck city, then." Minho said. 

Newt looked down at Thomas again and felt his heart breaking. It was a terrible, awful feeling to had been so elevated, had been so happy- then had it all come crashing down like this. It made Newt feel like his blood was poison, his organs cancer. He doubted he'd eat until Thomas was up again.

People started crowding around him and gripping him from underneath. Newt should've been focused on how well his grip on Thomas' back was, but all he could focus on was how much he wished they'd be gentler with him. With every pained look and cry from Thomas, Newt's world got darker. 

"One." Minho started. "Two..." Newt braced his grip as tightly as he'd allow himself. "Three!" 

They lifted Thomas up and he wailed; it was all Newt could do to not throw his hands over his ears. But thankfully- for Newt and for Thomas- he passed out. 

***

Getting out of the city had proved to be a difficult. They had been pursued by some Cranks and had to sprint out of it, carrying Thomas as they did so. Newt wasn't sure if Thomas awoke during any of that, but he certainly hoped he'd hadn't. They'd jostled him about quite a bit. 

But finally, they outran them and made out of there. They found a crappy old shed, its wood so beaten by the sun it looked like it could literally fall to dust at any moment. But it was big, big enough for them to hide out in. 

"Here." Jorge said, breathless. "We need to deal with the wound now, it's going to get infected. And that could kill him." 

Newt looked at Thomas' pale, lifeless face. Newt nodded. They all gently set Thomas down, Newt at his side. Jorge was going to need to burn through Thomas' skin with a heated knife, cut the bullet out. This was going to be bad. They started up a fire and Newt grimaced when he saw Thomas' eyes fluttering open. Newt leaned forward again, looking over Thomas' face. Thomas' eyes caught his for a moment and Newt smiled. Thomas returned it. 

Newt had to blink the tears out of his eyes; seeing Thomas like this. Somehow, this was worse than the Changing. This wasn't guaranteed survival or yelling and writhing; this was Newt having to watch the color drain from his skin, and hear pained, broken wails instead of mad howling. 

Jorge placed a gentle hand on Newt's shoulder, snapping him out of it. "You might want to sit back, hermano." he said, "this is gonna hurt somethin' awful." 

Newt gave Thomas' hand a squeeze before scooting back, finding himself seated beside Brenda. She looked miserable as well. If the situation had been different, that would've pissed him off. But right now, all he cared about was his Tommy. 

When Jorge cut into him, Thomas wailed something awful. Newt recoiled and threw his hand over his ears, screwing his eyes shut. It didn't last long, Thomas lost consciousness pretty quick. But the sound was snug in Newt's mind, and it was going to haunt him. At least until he could hear Thomas laugh again to wash it away. 

"He'll be okay." 

Newt looked up at Brenda, who looked at him with sympathy. "He's too tough. Or maybe just stubborn. He wouldn't leave you here." She offered a little smile. And Newt returned it. 

***

It'd been a couple hours since Jorge did what he had to. But it seemed, to Newt anyway, that it was too late. When he pointed it out, everyone assured him the discoloration- the purple and blackness webbing out across the skin around his wound was normal, that'd it pass. But the way they began whispering to each other when they thought Newt couldn't hear suggested something else. 

Thomas' eyes fluttered open as Newt was holding his hand. A pinprick of hope flared in Newt's chest, then died right back down when Thomas lost consciousness again. 

***

Newt was curled up at Thomas' side, sleeping in the sand while the others were in the shed-like home when he heard it. 

Minho had been the first, running out and gawking at the sky. Newt briefly noticed Thomas was awake, but he scrambled to his feet to check it out. A massive, thrumming machine- a ship, a plane, a nightmare; it fit under each category. 

"Berg!" Jorge shouted. 

Newt and the others stood in fear and confusion until Newt realized where it was headed. He spun around and dropped to his knees by Thomas, taking his hand. Thomas looked at him. 

Newt knew there was nothing he was going to be able to do stop these people. He grabbed both sides of Thomas' face, "I love you." he blurted, not sure what else to do. Not sure what to say. 

Thomas' eyes widened, fear and panic in them. "It's gonna be okay," Newt whispered, stealing the softest kiss, hoping his words weren't a lie. 

Then people were grabbing Newt's arms and they threw him aside, much farther than Newt thought possible for a person to do. He winced when he hit the ground, could feel long scrapes on his shoulder now from the bigger rocks in the sand. But he didn't even notice the pain, didn't register that Minho was helping him sit up, just watched as Thomas was lifted right into the Berg. 

And then it left, taking Thomas with it. 

Newt sat and stared where it had once been. And then the pain started seeping in, but not from his shoulder.


	24. Chapter Forty-One/Forty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright lovlies, it is official. I got some really positive feedback on the idea of doing two versions of Death Cure- one where Newt isn't immune (original plot) and one where he is (happy ending!). So, I shall be doing that after Scorch Trials! I'll be doing the original plot first; so if you hate the idea of a happy ending, don't read the next instillation after that XD But if you hate the idea of reading the original, then wait for the second instillation of it. But if you're in for the ride, all the way, then do please enjoy :3 
> 
> And I hope everyone had an awesome Thanksgiving!!! And I hope you all enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Once again, Thomas awoke to brilliant, blinding light. But he knew it wasn't the sun; it was too close. Too... Artificial. He heard whispers around him, their voices too soft for him to make out any words. 

He was in a hospital. A real hospital. A small panic set in, as much as he could panic in his current state- where was Newt? Memories came back, of them throwing him away from him. The panic festered over his body. Newt wasn't here. Not again- anything but that. 

Then a shadow blocked out the light- someone was looking down at him. His vision steadied and he could see their attire; a gas mask, big goggles- he could see the eyes behind them. It was a woman, he didn't know how he could tell, but he could. "Can you hear me?" she asked. Yes, definitely a woman. 

Thomas tried to not, but couldn't tell if his body obeyed. 

"This wasn't supposed to happen." she said, moving away from him and talking to someone else now. "How'd a working gun get in the city? Can you imagine how many germs must've been on that bullet?" 

"Just get on with it." a man replied. "We need to get him back." 

And then another pain took Thomas' shoulder like never before, and he was out again. 

***

Thomas awoke again. And something was different. 

Thomas pondered over it for a moment; then it hit him. He felt no pain. None. And the ecstasy he felt seemed impossible. 

And it was. He was drugged. 

Upon the realization, he dozed off. 

***

When he stirred the next time, he kept his eyes closed. Even in his drugged stupor, he knew better than to disturb the voices around him. Maybe he could find something out. They spoke of this situation possibly being a bonus for "killzone patterns". And Candidates; and how apparently only four or five were still viable. And apparently Thomas was number one, though he had no idea what that meant. 

They noticed his eyes move under his eyelids. And despite Thomas' efforts to stay still, they knew. "If you're listening, Thomas. Don't get too excited, we're going to dump you back right where we took you from." 

The drugs surged. Now he couldn't open his eyes even if he wanted to, but under the drugs, he was excited. Newt was back where they took him from. He couldn't wait to get back. And as he slipped away, fading into bliss, he heard one last thing. 

"It's what you would've wanted us to do." 

 

 

The next time Thomas awoke, he was being lowered from the Berg. Then there was hands, then faces, his friends. Then the rope and vessel that had taken him down was being brought back up to WICKED's machine and then it was all gone.

Thomas staggered to his feet, all the Gladers' questions dizzying. Someone slammed into him and they crashed to the ground- it was Newt. Thomas smiled and hugged him. "You're back, thank God- I didn't know if I could go on without ya again." Newt said, his face pressed into Thomas' shoulder, muffling the words.

Thomas squeezed him, "I'm sorry." 

Newt just laid on him, "don't apologize. You're back." 

Then Thomas realized the heat. He stood up, Newt wrapping his arms and legs around him. Thomas laughed a little as Newt just clung to him, Thomas didn't even have to hold him up. When Thomas laughed, Newt giggled into Thomas' shoulder and Thomas couldn't keep his hands off him. "What're you guys doing!? Get inside before your skin bakes!" Thomas said to everyone, but couldn't wipe the smile off his face. 

The group trekked back over to a rather crappy little hut, but it was big enough for everyone. 

Newt still hadn't released Thomas when they entered the hut. Thomas sat in front of the group who was taking their seats. Newt only released him when he sat down and Thomas wished he hadn't, he was enjoying having Newt literally attached to him. When everyone was settled, all the Gladers sat on the ground in front of Thomas except Newt, Newt sat next to him, holding his hand. 

And then Thomas explained what he could; which wasn't much, but what he did know for certain was that they didn't want him to die of the infection. Which is why they took him and cured it. He told them about the Candidates, and the killzone patterns. Every murky detail of his time there. 

Newt furrowed his brow in confusion; all the Gladers looked the same, just a bit more frustrated. "So, we're all potential candidates for something. And maybe the purpose of all the buggin' klunk we've been through is to weed out those who don't qualify. But for some reason the whole gun-and-rusty-bullet thing wasn't a part of the... normal tests. Variables, whatever. If Tommy's gonna croak and die, it wasn't supposed to come from a bloody infection." 

Thomas nodded; at least one person understood. 

A few more discussions broke out, but Minho hushed them- insisting they needed to sleep. Thomas didn't argue, he was ready for some sleep. There was no blankets or pillows, so Thomas curled up right where he had been sitting, lifting his arm so Newt could snuggle into his arms. Once Newt was settled, Thomas dropped his arm and hugged it around Newt's waist. 

"When was the last time we go to sleep curled up together like this?" Thomas asked, staring into Newt's brown eyes admirably. 

Newt smiled and kissed Thomas' jaw. "Too long." 

Thomas nodded and closed his eyes. Newt snuggled up closer to him, "I love you, Tommy." 

Thomas smiled, "I love you, too." 

And with that, a calmness settled. A feeling of bliss; Thomas knew this was how it was supposed to be. And then sleep took him. 

***

The sun was still blazing, the Gladers still sleeping, when Thomas awoke. To a voice. A girl's voice. Teresa. 

'Tom, don't even try to talk back. Something terrible is going to happen to you tomorrow. An awful, awful thing. You're gonna be hurt and you're gonna be scared. But you have to trust me. No matter what happens, no matter what you see, no matter what you hear, no matter what you think. You have to trust me. I won't be able to talk to you.' 

She paused, but Thomas couldn't think of anything to say-- so much information at once after such a long period of silence. 

'I have to go.' she continued. 'You won't hear from me for awhile.' Another pause. 'Not until we're all back together again.' 

He wanted to say something, anything, but her presence was gone before he could get in a word.


	25. Chapter Forty-Three/Forty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another update!! I am not 100% certain I'll be able to update again tonight, but I'll definitely try!!!
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

It took awhile for Thomas to find sleep again. 

He had so many questions; something bad? To just trust her? And the last part, about them all being together again, did that mean he was going to make it out of the bad thing okay? And that Teresa would come back to the rest of the Gladers? It was all very confusing. 

Eventually though, the heat brought fatigue. And Newt's gentle sounds of sleep urged him to do the same. 

***

Newt shook him awake in the late evening. Teresa's odd warning felt unreal now. 

"Did you sleep well?" Newt asked, sitting criss-cross in front of Thomas as Thomas started stirring himself. "How's your shoulder?" 

Thomas rolled his shoulder as he sat up, surprised at how good it felt. "It feels really good, actually. Shocking that I was hurting so bad before." 

Newt smiled and nodded, then looked around at the Gladers preparing to leave. "It feels like we haven't had much time to just talk since leavin' the bloody dorm. Just one situation after the next, I suppose." 

Thomas nodded, a pang of sadness hitting his heart. Yes, Newt and Thomas talked the most out of all the rest of them, but it was nothing compared to the Maze. Thinking of the Maze made Thomas think of Chuck, then the anger set in for WICKED. He thought about Teresa writing "WICKED is good" on her arm. He shook his head, "I don't see how WICKED can be good." 

"Huh?" 

"The thing Teresa wrote on her arm. 'WICKED is good', I'm just finding that hard to believe." he said, sarcasm heavy in his words. 

Newt gave him a little smile. "Well they just saved your buggin' life." 

Thomas nodded, "I guess they did." he said, though he wasn't convinced. He leaned forward and placed a little kiss on Newt's lips before getting up, then helping Newt do the same. "I'm starving. Let's go eat." Thomas said, taking Newt's hand and walking to Frypan. 

***

They left just as darkness hit. Thomas was glad, he felt cramped, he needed to move- loosen his muscles a bit. 

They marched along, the stars their only light. It was all they needed. Newt and Thomas walked hand-in-hand, and Thomas could feel Brenda close by. But her vibe was anything but pleasant. 

Thomas and Newt threw back little conversations; the stars, the memories of the Maze, all that. Stuff that made Thomas feel better, made him feel less guilty about Brenda and less confused about Teresa and her warning. Newt was his freaking life-line. 

The group kept on marching, and eventually the first traces of dawn smeared over the sky, drowning out the stars. But he couldn't help but notice Brenda, and how quiet she was. Newt nudged him, "something got your attention?" he asked, his face unreadable. 

Thomas squeezed his hand, "I need to apologize to Brenda. I said some bad stuff to her back there," he said. 

Newt nodded. "Hurry back, and no kissing." 

Thomas rolled his eyes and laughed sarcastically. "Ha ha ha, very funny." he leaned down and kissed Newt's head before falling back a bit to Brenda. "Hey." he said when he reached her. "How're your feet holding up?"

"Fine." she snapped, but didn't seem to mean it and quickly smoothed it over, "how's your shoulder?" she asked more gently. 

"Great. I can't believe how amazing it feels." 

"That's good." 

"Yeah." Thomas searched his mind for the words. "So, um. I'm really sorry. About what I said, my mind was all kinds of messed up, and it was a bit harsh of me." 

She looked over at him, and she didn't seem angry. "Please Thomas, you don't need to apologize. You've got that boyfriend of yours, and you're both absolutely obsessed with each other- I shouldn't have tried to kiss you and all that crap." 

"I know, but still-" 

"Thomas, don't say anything stupid." A mocking smile found her face. "If you're going to reject all this"- she motioned to herself from head to toe- "it better be for a damn good reason." 

Thomas laughed, and just like that, all the tension was gone. His heart felt warm, like he was talking to Chuck again. Thomas was just about to jog back up to Newt when he stopped dead in his tracks. 

A girl had appeared out of nowhere. She was walking towards them at a brisk pace. She held a long, wooden shaft with a nasty blade on the end of it. 

It was Teresa. 

 

 

Thomas' spirits lifted at seeing his best friend alive, but he was a little concerned about the weapon. 

Then, on both sides of Teresa, girls appeared. From behind them, too. They were surrounded by at least twenty of them, all of them carrying weapons, all of them looking ready to kill. Thomas quickly strode to Newt and took his hand, taking the blond by surprise, but he relaxed when he saw him. 

Teresa began making her way through the Gladers, "anyone moves and the arrows start flying." 

She kept a steady pace until she stood in front of Newt and Thomas. "Teresa," Thomas muttered. 

"Shut up." she said it so calmly, no anger there. Just an utter command. 

"But-" 

Teresa suddenly reared back and slammed the butt of her spear into Thomas' cheek. The pain was incredible, and he crumpled to the ground. Newt yelled and Thomas looked up in time to see her slam the butt of her spear into his chest, knocking him right off his center of gravity and sending him smacking into the ground; gasping for the wind that had been knocked out of him. 

Before Thomas could do anything, his neck and very skull aching, Teresa grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him back on his feet, pointing the sharp end of her spear at him. "I said shut up. Is your name Thomas?" 

Thomas stared at her, disbelief in his eyes. "You know who I am-" 

She spun her spear, the bladeless end smacking into his ear. He cried out and was on the ground again. Newt was getting to his feet and looked ready to pounce, but Thomas remembered what she said about the arrows. And at this point, Thomas didn't doubt her mercilessness. He gave Newt a look that stopped him. Thankfully. 

"I am going to ask you again, is your name Thomas?" 

"Yes!" Thomas yelled, "my name is Thomas!" 

Teresa nodded, then began backing up towards the circle of girls that surrounded the Gladers. "You're coming with us." she called out. "Thomas. Come on. We'll kill anyone else who moves." 

"No way!" Minho shouted. "You're not taking him anywhere." 

"I'm not playing." she said. "We're going to start counting. Every time we hit a multiple of five, we'll kill one of your friends, Thomas. Starting with your boyfriend." 

Thomas couldn't believe this. An unhealthy surge of rage filled him. How could she? How could she hurt him and then use Newt against him? She knew more than most how much Newt meant to him. Despite the anger, Thomas wasn't taking any chances. He started through the Gladers, giving Newt a sympathetic glance at he went by. This again. 

The sadness in Newt's eyes was worse than the situation. Thomas had to look away quickly, or else he might've stopped then and there. He walked to her, standing almost nose-to-nose with her. And he had to fight it, the resentment trying to manifest inside him. She told him to trust her. He needed to trust her. 

She wacked the spear into his jaw, making him wonder if trusting her was the best idea. 

"Bring the bag," she spat. 

Two girls started his way, carrying a burlap sack. 

"What the hell, Teresa?" Minho shouted. "You catch the Flare already?" 

The spear connected with the back of Thomas' head and he hit the ground, lying on his stomach now. He heard Newt squeak and it made Thomas' heart ache more than his throbbing head. "Anyone else want to say something?" Teresa asked, and silence was her answer.

Fake or not, this was too extreme. She could at least hit him a little less hard, not use Newt against him. She was cruel. 'No.' he thought sternly, 'just try to trust her.' 

"Don't resist, it'll just make it worse." A dark-skinned girl said. Her words held real sympathy. That is, until she continued, "better just go along and let us kill you. No need for all the pain along the way." 

And with that, the bag slipped over his head and he saw nothing but ugly brown light.


	26. Chapter Forty-Five/Forty-Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright lovlies, some friends of the family have asked that tonight, I go to theirs and stay the night tonight, then stay all day tomorrow and then they'll take me to school on Monday so I can babysit their kiddos while they go take a tour of their soon-to-be college! So, I'm gonna try to do three updates right now!! And then I'll update probably some time on Tuesday because I have Knowledge Bowl on Monday! 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

They moved and shifted him around until they got the bag over his entire body, then tied it tight at his feet, wrapping the remaining rope around the rest of him- pinning him inside the bag. Then they started moving; these girls were really going to drag him. He started to panic, started squirming. "Teresa, don't do this to me!" 

A fist slammed into his stomach, making him cry out. He wanted to double over, clutch his stomach, but he couldn't move within the bag. All he could do was try to keep his food down. "Since you obviously don't care about yourself," Teresa started, "talk again and we'll shoot your friends- starting with your boyfriend." 

Thomas kept his mouth shut, heaving a silent sob. This was terrible. Just yesterday, things were okay. No more infection, he got to lay beside Newt again- Hell, even this morning was good. They only had a day's hike over the mountain, he smoothed things over with Brenda and he had Newt's hand in his. Now this.

Thomas was starting to think that maybe this wasn't an act, that maybe Teresa lied to him when she said they were making her do this. But then, she knelt beside the bag and whispered so softly Thomas almost missed it; "They're blocking me from talking to you in our heads. Remember to trust me." 

Thomas was taken by utter surprise. One of the other girls asked her what she was saying and she came up with some arrogant excuse. She was a good actress. Then she whispered to him one last time; "Hang in there. It'll be over soon." 

And just like that, she was up and walking away and the girls were dragging him along the painful ground. He arched his back, putting his weight on his feet, letting his shoes take the worst of it. Thomas could barely hear it, but Newt and Minho were yelling. It was almost impossible to hear over the sound of the dragging, but he caught a few words that gave him hope; "we'll find you", "time is right", "weapons". 

Teresa slammed her fist into Thomas and shut the boys up. 

***

As they continued along, Thomas started worrying about when his strength gave out. As soon as it did, he'd be being dragged on his back; he could only imagine the terrible bloody wounds that would leave. 

The mountains saved him. 

As they started up the slope of the mountain, Thomas' weight proved too much for the girls. "Why don't you just let me walk?!" he called. "I mean, you do have weapons, what am I gonna do?" 

"Shut up, Thomas." Teresa said with a kick to Thomas' side. "We're not idiots, we're waiting until your Glader buddies can't see us anymore." 

'Huh? Why?" 

"Cause that's what we were told to do." 

"Why'd you tell him that!?" one of the girls snapped. 

"What does it matter?" Teresa snapped right back. "We're gonna kill him anyway." 

The girls discussed how much longer they'd have to walk until the Gladers wouldn't be able to see them. Apparently, it wasn't far. The girls decided to carry him rather than drag him and began making their way up. 

It went on for about an hour. The girls occasionally had to switch off carrying duties and the sun was starting to become dangerous- heating the sack like a coffin of fire. But then they reached ground-level and shade enveloped him, bringing instant relief. The girls dropped him rather roughly. Once the bag was off, Thomas gladly got to his feet. For an irrational moment, he considered sprinting back. See how close he could get to Newt before he got himself shot. 

But the thought was a joke more than anything and they went on. 

 

 

Teresa had said something about killing him as punishment for what he did to her. Of course, he didn't understand. He was having a hard time understanding her at all. And an even harder time not being somewhat ticked off with her; could he really trust her? 

He didn't feel like thinking about, especially when the noon sun had risen to its full glory. Finally, they reached a large indention in the mountain face. It was the girls' camp- blankets, remains of a fire pit, trash piled along the edge. Thomas learned some things about the girls; the dark-skinned girl was Harriet and the one who always with her, with blonde-reddish hair and white, white skin was Sonya. Thomas' heart twisted as he realized how much they reminded him of Alby and Newt, the way they acted with authority, they way they held themselves, the way they walked and talked together, always at each other's sides- it was like a mirror image. 

But yet, they answered to Teresa in the end. Though they didn't seem too happy about it. Teresa ordered them to tie Thomas to a tree, and Thomas couldn't deny it anymore, he was starting to hate her. He didn't fight them as they tied him up. They left him a couple granola bars and a bottle of water, but no one talked to him. Thomas tried to sort everything out, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like Teresa was lying about trusting her. Maybe she had never been his friend, maybe she was going to kill him because WICKED told her to. But he noticed that whenever the other girls glanced at him, they looked guilty. 

Thomas noticed Harriet and Sonya and decided to go for broke. "You guys don't really want to kill me, do you?" 

Harriet gave him one hell of a glare. "From what we've heard; our group escaped the Maze three days before you, killed more Grievers and lost less people. I doubt knocking off one teenage boy would be too much of a challenge." 

"Think of the guilt you'll feel. I have friends- and what about my boyfriend?" he could only hope the thought would be at the back at their heads, digging at him. 

"We'll get over it." Harriet said, sticking her tongue out before laying her head down for sleep. 

Sonya, on the other hand, looked far from sleep. And she began speaking, clearly the more rational one. Yet again, Thomas couldn't help but think about every time Alby had said something cruel and Newt had smoothed it over. "We don't have a choice. WICKED said that was our only task. If we don't, they won't let us into the safe haven." 

Teresa walked over and Thomas just wished she'd go away. "What're you guys talking about?" 

"Nothing," Harriet answered, "tell him to shut up." 

"Shut up," Teresa said. 

Thomas huffed, not able to believe this. "What're you gonna do, kill me if I don't?" 

She didn't respond. 

"Why do you hate me all of a sudden? What did I do to you?" 

"You know what you did. So does everyone else here, I told them. But even still, I wouldn't have sunk to your level and tried to kill you. We're only doing that because we have to. Sorry. Life's tough." 

"What are you talking about, sink to my level? I'd never kill a friend to save my own butt. Never." 

"Me neither," she said, starting to turn around. "Glad we're not friends." 

Thomas tried to get her to tell him what he had apparently done, but she refused to answer and stomped off. Thomas shook his head. This was ridiculous. He shifted into a semi-comfortable position for sleep. He thought about how nice it would be to be lying on the ground with Newt curled up beside him. With a sigh, he looked out over the mountains as if Newt would be right there, crawling over to him, but there was nothing. Thomas was thankful they were away, he didn't want someone getting shot, but he had to admit- he was really wishing they'd come rescue him now. 

Finally though, he managed to sleep.


	27. Chapter Forty-Seven/Forty-Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update for my lovlies!! 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Thomas had another memory burrowed in his dreams; 

They were fifteen years old. He and Teresa were standing in front of a massive bank of screens, and on those screens was the Glade. "I can't believe they're all dead." 

Thomas, the sleeping one, has no idea what she's talking about. Obviously not the Gladers; he can see Newt and Minho walking towards the forest, Gally sitting on a bench, and Alby yelling at someone Thomas doesn't recognize. "We knew it would happen," he responded, but not sure why he said it. 

"It's still hard to take. Now it's up to us. And the people in the barracks." 

"That's a good thing," Thomas said. 

Then he continued; "Do you really think we can pull this off with all the original Creators dead?" 

Teresa assured him they have to. And that they had a year to train the replacements. The younger Thomas has questions, doubts. But still, Teresa assured him that everything they were doing was right. To save them. Thomas took one last look at the Gladers on the screen before nodding. 

***

When Thomas awoke, Harriet and Sonya were sitting just a few feet away from him, staring at him strangely. "Good evening," he said, "can I help you ladies?" 

"We want to know what you know," Harriet said quietly. 

"Why should I help you?" he asked, but he also knew he'd tell them. Something had changed in Harriet's eyes, something that had already been in Sonya's. He was being presented with the chance to save himself. 

"I don't think you have a choice. But if you share what you've learned, maybe we can help you." Harriet said firmly. 

Thomas looked around for Teresa and Sonya noticed; "She said she wanted to scout the area to see if your friends followed us. And your boyfriend." she added that last part with a certain kind of softness; and Thomas knew that that was what had caused them to break down and consider his side of the story. Even when Newt wasn't trying, he was saving Thomas' butt.

"So does this mean you guys are having second thoughts about killing me?" he asked, thinking he sounded rather stupid. 

Harriet smirked. "Don't get your hopes too high. Let's just say we have our doubts and wanna hear your side- but your odds are slim." 

Sonya continued. "The smartest thing for us seems to be to do what we're told. There are a lot more of us than you, I mean, what would your decision be?" 

"Probably the one that doesn't kill myself." 

Her face didn't lighten. "This isn't a joke. If you could choose, and the choices are you die or all of us die, what would you honestly pick?" 

Thomas realized she was very serious and the question hit him hard. He took a moment to think before answering; "Okay, I'm being totally honest here. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't kill me." 

Harriet scoffed, "easy for you to say, since it's your life on the line." 

"No seriously. It's some kind of test. Maybe you're not supposed to actually do it- maybe we should share what we know, see if we can figure something out." Thomas answered, meaning every word. 

Harriet and Sonya exchanged glances, then Harriet spoke up. "We've had our doubts about this since the beginning. Something isn't right. Let us get everybody over here, then talk." 

"Hurry, then." Thomas said as they went to get the others. "Before Teresa gets back." 

 

 

When everyone had gathered around him, Harriet spoke, arms crossed. "Alright. You talk, then we will." 

It turned out the girls didn't know much at all about WICKED. Thomas told them everything he knew and how this was probably just another Variable since WICKED seemed to think he was special. And how he thought maybe all this was for them to prove they can think for themselves, make rational decisions. Killing Thomas would have no point, after all. He did his best, so he sat back and waited. It was up to them. 

From their response, he seemed to have saved himself. Hopefully. 

When Teresa came back, they pulled her aside to talk to her. All Thomas could hear was that they were whispering to each other. But he couldn't make out a single word anybody said. 

It wasn't long before Teresa was storming away from the camp; her spear over one shoulder, her backpack over the other. Harriet walked over and began untying him. "So, did you decide anything?" Thomas asked anxiously. 

"It's your lucky day. We figured it couldn't be a coincidence that we were all thinking the same thing," she said once she had completely untied him. She got to her feet and offered Thomas a hand. "Watch out for Teresa, though. She does not like you." 

Thomas let Harriet pull him up; pain stabbing him in the chest. 

Teresa really wanted him dead.


	28. Chapter Forty-Nine/Fifty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys haven't had lemon water; I strongly suggest it. I am getting addicted to this stttuuuuuffff :3   
> Anyways, next chapter because I love you all :D 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Thomas was quiet as they all ate and prepared to leave. It was a little awkward trying to be friendly with these people after the events of the past day, but it was also a nice shift. Though, he wished he could go back to his friends. Back to Newt. Something told him that trying to leave right after they decided to trust him wasn't such a good idea. 

It pained him to admit, but with time running out, he'd just have to hope they'd make it to the safe haven. 

They walked for a couple of hours over hills and cliffs, hiking along. Thomas hung out near the back of the group. Eventually, Harriet fell back until they were walking side-by-side. "Sorry for dragging you over the desert in a bag." 

"Oh, no problem. It was nice to take a load off for awhile." 

She laughed, and the sound relaxed him. "So." she said, trying to start conversation. "I'm going to guess the boy who Teresa jabbed in the chest was your boyfriend?" 

Thomas nodded, "that would be him." he said, getting angry at Teresa for that all over again. "His name's Newt." 

"I think he is why we decided to give you a chance," Harriet said, though Thomas already figured that out. "Out of all the people that were in our Maze, even with Aris showed up, nobody fell in love with each other- no one hooked up despite the odds. It was kind of shocking, really, when we saw you two together and when Teresa said he was your boyfriend. Then when you said it, we knew she just wasn't messing around. We figured- how bad of a guy can you be if you fell in love in this mess?" 

Thomas laughed a little and rubbed the back of his head, suddenly embarrassed now. Harriet noticed he didn't know what to say and changed the subject with a fond smirk on her face. "Seriously, though. The bag thing was part of the instructions, too. The man gave us very specific details, though Teresa was the one who took it above and beyond and was all for it. Almost like killing you was her idea." 

The words stung a bit, "what were the... specific instructions he gave you?" 

"We were traveling through underground tunnels most of the time. The first thing we were supposed to do was the weird thing in the building right before the storm. Remember? I'm sure you've figured it out, but all that was an act. It was supposed to give you a false sense of security. She even said they controlled her and made her hug you? Did she really do that?" 

That was it. Thomas had lost all doubt; she had turned against him. Or maybe she'd never even been on his side. Either way, it hurt. 

"I know this sucks," Harriet said softly. "It seems like you used to feel really close to her." 

Thomas shook it off and Harriet went on to explain that the rest of the instructions was to kill him; kidnap him from Group A, keep him in the bag until they were out of their sight, and then kill him in a special place built into the mountain. 

***

On the second night of marching, someone announced the Pass. 

Thomas sprinted towards the front, desperate to see what the safe haven looked like. But when he got up there. There was nothing- just more wasteland. The girls suggested maybe there was a hatch to more underground tunnels that they just couldn't see from there. Thomas decided to hope with them. 

So, they set off again. 

***

Thomas was the last in line as they criss-crossed down the slope of the mountain. Then someone whispered his name. There was a thick note of white wooded trees to his right and in them, Teresa was there. "Teresa, what..." 

"Tom, we need to talk." she said, "don't worry about them, just come with me." she said, motioning behind her.

Thomas hesitated. "Maybe we should-" 

"Just come on. The act is over." she turned away without waiting for him. 

He stood there and he thought hard. His instincts told him not to, to just turn and catch up with Harriet and Sonya and the others. But he followed her. 

 

 

Thomas followed her for awhile as she led the way before finding the courage to speak. "Where are we going? And you really expect me to trust you? Why didn't you stop your 'act' when everyone else agreed to not kill me?" 

But her reply made no sense. "You've met Aris, right?" 

"Um, yeah, I know Aris. How do you know Aris. What's he got to do with this?" 

She didn't answer right away and they eventually stopped. She turned to look at him, arms folded. "Aris and I know each other quite well. He was a big part of my life before the Maze and he and I can speak in our minds. Even when I was in the Glade, I was communicating with him."

Thomas had no idea what to say. 

"You're lying." he finally said. 

"Oh come on, Tom. How could you be so stupid? After all you've been through? Our friendship- us being the bestest friends, us being family" -she said it so mockingly he wanted to hit her- "we never were. It was just part of some test, and know it's over. Aris and I are going to do what we were told to do, and life goes on. WICKED is what matters, not some petty friendship you thought you and I had." 

"What're you talking about?" he couldn't believe it. He just couldn't. 

Someone was sneaking up behind Thomas, he could hear them. But he didn't turn to look. 

"Tom, Aris is behind you and he has a very big knife. You're coming with us. Understand?" 

Thomas was made. Enraged. He stared at her, hoping she could feel it. 

"Say hi, Aris." she said with a sick smile on her face. 

"Hi, Tommy." Aris said, the nickname almost making Thomas turn and send his fist into the rat's mouth. That was for Newt and no one else. Hell, he might've, but he felt the tip of the knife against the small of his back. 

Teresa ordered him to follow, and he did. And he hated her. 

***

They reached a cave. There was a dull light shone from deep inside. Aris stepped around Thomas, keeping the blade aimed at his chest like a gun. They spoke for a moment before Teresa wrapped her arm around Aris', seeming happier than Thomas had ever seen her. 

Thomas looked away. It had been a lie. When Chuck, Teresa and Newt were the most important things to him, she had been talking to Aris about how much she couldn't wait to see him, he just knew it. When she spoke to him in the dorm at night on the first night, not able to sleep, that was an act. When she cried out for him about how something was wrong, she was faking it. She had never been his best friend. But he had loved her like one. 

The more she talked to him, the more Thomas couldn't believe how much he hated her now. How far away he felt from her. How she could die right now and Thomas' one worry would be how to get back to Minho and Newt and the Gladers. His real family.

"Aris," she said, "open the door. Time for Tom to go."


	29. Chapter Fifty-One/Fifty-Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM BACK.   
> So sorry for the delay- lasted a little longer than I thought :( BUT I AM HERE NOW. I just feel so bad, it felt so wrong not updating- not to mention, this story has gotten almost 300 more hits since I was here last and I just- I AM SO SORRY. 
> 
> Anywho! 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Thomas hated these two. 

He surely never wanted to be around them again, but now they were leading them to a door at the end of this narrow tunnel. Its sickly green light peaking through the glass little room. It was small, if two people were to be inside it, it'd be a squeeze. And the walls on the inside were metal, with holes sticking out. Thomas could only imagine what they were for. 

But he let them escort him to the door at the end of the tunnel. He wasn't going to leave Newt and Minho and all the others without a fight-- he just needed an opportunity. 

They walked until they were only a couple feet in front of the glass compartment. Teresa stepped forward and began punching something- undoubtedly a code- into a keypad by the door. A loud pop sounded, followed by a sharp hiss. The entire right side opened out, wispy trails of white mist following. 

The two checked out the room for a moment before turning back to Thomas. "This is it, just walk in the room- nice and easy. Who knows? Maybe this another test and they'll let you go and we can all have a happy reunion." he waved his blade forward, urging Thomas to walk in. 

Thomas was beginning to panic. He didn't exactly have a solid plan or anything. He began walking forward, thinking about all he'd be walking away from if he didn't save himself-- trying to determine himself further. Though all he needed to think about was Newt and he had all he needed. As painfully slow steps went by, Thomas got a cruel idea. Thomas paused when Aris was exactly to his left. He shot Aris a sharp, sideways glance. "What did Rachel look like when she bled to death?" 

That did it. 

Thomas got the second he needed- Aris faltered and looked like someone had just slapped him in the face. Thomas wasn't about to lose his chance. Thomas swung out his arm as he jumped at Aris, knocking the knife out of Aris' hand then wasting no time to swing his right fist into Aris' stomach, making the boy crumple. Thomas was going to kick him in the face or head to knock him out, but he heard Teresa pick up her spear. 

They locked eyes for only a moment and he could feel it; all the pleasant memories with her, the way their friendship had grown, all the times he'd worried about her- they meant nothing now. Teresa was dead to him. This was a girl he didn't know, one he'd never known. 

Then she charged. Thomas threw his hands up to protect himself, but was too slow. The butt of the spear smacked into the side of the head. Stars popped and flittered across his vision, then he fell. Bought he fight to conscious, he'd always fight. 

He heard Teresa yell, then shaft of the spear was smacking into the back of his skull. He felt blood ooze through his hair and an extraordinary pain ripped through his head. Thomas rolled onto his back to look at his attackers. Teresa stood, heaving heavy breaths, holding the spear over her head with the blunt end pointed at Thomas. "Get in the room, Thomas. Get in the room or I'll hit you again. We can play this until you either bleed to death or pass out." 

Thomas kept fighting, despite the odds. He kicked out his feet and connected with a knee on both of them. They screamed and toppled on each other, but the effort it took Thomas to do that had drained him. The world was spinning and white flashes took his vision in a flurry. They were on him quickly, and he had no strength left to push them away. Aris and Teresa grabbed him, dragging him towards the room. Thomas kicked his feet feebly, his final act of defiance. 

They dragged him through the threshold. He thought about a lot of things then. Of Alby dying, of Ben's pitiful pleas as he was cast away, the life draining from Chuck's eyes when he was hit with that knife, Gally going limp under Thomas' fists, the boy in the storm who lost his leg- and he understood how they must've felt. About to die with absolutely no chance of survival. "No," he whispered. 

Thomas thought of some beautiful things, too. He thought of his mother's eyes in his dreams, Minho's sarcasm and that confident laugh, Chuck's stupid comments and rosy cheeks, laying under the stars with Newt at his side, laughing with Newt, their alone time, the sun and the way it caught Newt's hair and eyes and made them shine, the way the moonlight bathed Newt's eyes in a surreal pool of white, Newt's hand in his. "No," he whispered again. 

He thought about how Newt and Minho would be now and it washed away all the euphoria that had been filling him; all the love that had been squeezing his chest in the best way. All these images and memories flickered by, like a flame catching on a wick too short to hold it for more than a second or two. They all fizzled away from his vision before the next. It felt like each had taken hour each to manifest and present itself, but Thomas knew it had only been seconds. 

"Teresa," Thomas whispered, thinking of the way he felt about her. The way he had wanted to keep her- his family, his best friend- safe at any cost. Happy at any cost. Healthy at any cost. And he was using it right now, the last shred of hope he'd ever have for her again. This was her only chance, the only time he'd ever forgive her. 'Teresa.' he said in her mind this time. 

'I'm sorry, Tom.' she replied, closing the door, 'but thanks for being our sacrifice.' 

And then the door closed, and Thomas knew he'd never love her again. 

 

 

Thomas laid there, losing his consciousness. It was slipping away ever second. He wanted to have more happy flashbacks about Newt and Minho and Chuck, but his mind was too tired to generate them. 

An hour passed. Maybe two. Maybe only thirty minutes. He had no idea. 

And then there was a hissing. 

Mist was shooting out of the holes within the wall. He couldn't die like this, of all the ways he could die, this had to be a joke. WICKED had to be kidding. Thomas tried to get up but couldn't, there was just no way. 

Suddenly, he was exhausted. 

No, sick. 

The gas. Something was wrong. 

Somewhere within the darkness crawling over him, he was aware of his head hitting the floor. 

Newt. 

Heartache. Newt. 

Teresa. Why? 

Betrayal... 

Tired....


	30. Chapter Fifty-Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting pretty late and I haven't even started my homework yet (lol). So, one more update, (I know it's painfully small, but let's get the tiny one out of the way so I can resume normal-sized chapters tomorrow!) then I'm off to bed :)
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Thomas slipped into another memory-dream, despite his unsurity if he was even alive or not. 

Thomas was sixteen in this dream and he's standing in front of Teresa and Aris. And some girl he doesn't recognize. 

But Aris? 

All three of them looked at Thomas with grim faces. Then Teresa started crying. "It's time to go," Thomas said. 

Aris nodded. "Into the Swipe, then the Maze." 

Thomas and the others say goodbye, and Teresa hugged him. He realized he was crying, too. 

They parted, the last time they'd have with their full memory. The room was full of sadness and solemn goodbyes and "see you later"s. 

The dream slipped away as did Thomas' consciousness.


	31. Chapter Fifty-Four/Fifty-Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay babies... don't hate me... but I'm only posting this one update. I swear to God, I wanna post more, but I've been up for eighteen hours and am just now getting home because there's so much slush on the roads and we had about a million things go wrong with our tires and just ugh. But I am home now, homework is done, and now I shall update. Just bare with me my dears, tomorrow's Friday!! 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Consciousness came back to him slowly. A crawl from the depths of darkness, whispers the first thing he heard. Thomas realized he had opened his eyes and was staring into blackness. Then came the realization that his face was pressed against the ground. Shock hit him; at first he thought he was dead, completely numb. For a dreadful moment, he thought that maybe the soul never leaves its vessel, that he would eternally lay numb, watching the world through dead eyes. 

But that wasn't the case; his aliments just seemed to no longer exist. No more pain, no more discomfort. Hell, he felt invigorated! His mind was beginning to return to him. He wondered where the green glow had gone as he pushed himself into a sitting position. 

All he could think about was how Teresa betrayed him. How she tried to kill him. 

Thomas sat, letting his mind return to its former and full sharpness before even attempting any sort of escape. He pressed his hand on the glass walls, then began pounding. "Hey, anyone out there!?" 

Then something cracked and hissed and the door began to slowly open. Teresa stood on the other side in the pale light of early morning, making Thomas' stomach drop in what Thomas could only describe as disgust. 

She was crying and before Thomas had much chance to do anything, she was throwing herself on him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his neck. "I'm so sorry, Tom. I'm so, so, so, so sorry. They said they'd kill you if we didn't do what we did just like they told us to. I'm sorry, Tom!" 

But Thomas didn't feel relief. He didn't forgive her. And he knew he never would. All trust and love and compassion and worry and admiration for her were long-gone. He didn't hug her back and he didn't comfort her. 

Thomas knew it was a bit irrational, since she did technically keep her promise. But he knew things would never be the same again. He'd never be able to look at her without wishing he wasn't. Thomas stepped away from her, almost irked by her touch. 

Her face made him wish he could forget. The way her big blue eyes were glued to him with such sincerity. And Thomas stood quietly as Teresa and Aris explained themselves, and as she smiled as if everything would be okay now, a rush of emotion swelled somewhere beneath the barrier of hatred and distrust he had for her, but it would never break that barrier. Thomas knew that. Surely, she knew that. 

The two had apparently been told by WICKED to do all of those things to him, and that he would live. 

Thomas was quick to change the subject- they only had a few hours left and today was their last day to reach the safe haven. A quick update from Aris told Thomas that there was still nothing but wasteland where the safe haven should be. But he also found out the Gladers were catching up to the girls and they were all headed the same way. And that everyone was accounted for. Relief trickled over him; Newt was okay. 

So they started out and down the mountain face. And Thomas saw them for himself- two groups of people traveling ahead of them a bit. His step felt lighter and he wanted nothing more than to go to them. 

His mood dropped when Teresa started explaining. Apparently the first night, when she had called out to him, that was when WICKED took her and cut off their telepathy. That was when they took her to Group B and told her what she had to do. 

He also found out Aris and Teresa really had talked in the Maze. Mostly when she was in her coma. 

 

 

Thomas argued it for but a moment, insisting that she should've told him. But then he realized- he just didn't care anymore. Anything to do with her wasn't worth his time. 

She continued to explain everything, though. And Thomas was sure to keep his remarks sharp and mean. He wanted her to know that they'd never be the same again, though every time he talked to her, he wished he wasn't. 

And as they continued to trek down the mountain, as Teresa spoke, Thomas had but two things on his mind: 

The dark clouds rolling in and how much closer he was getting to Newt by the second.


	32. Chapter Fifty-Six/Fifty-Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry for not updating yesterday-- I stayed after school for a long time with some friends and then went out to eat with my mom and by the time I got home I was soooo ready for bed XD 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

The wind began growing powerful. 

Thunder was rumbling in the darkening sky. Thomas quickened his pace down the mountain-- he needed to get to Newt before another storm came. And they all needed to start seriously rushing; they still had a ways to go, and they'd never make it if the storm hit them first. 

Eventually, they were ground-level and began sprinting across the flatland. It was harder to see the slowly converging Group A and B now that they'd lost their bird's-eye-view, but they were closer now at least. 

Time dragged on as they ran. Thomas had to run twice as hard as he ever had now that the wind was beginning to push back. Worry crept over him; there was still no sign of any safe haven to be seen and with the storm picking up, if there was nothing- if all this was a sick joke- they'd have no chance. Eventually, the Gladers caught up with the girls. All of them were standing around something. 

'What are they looking at?' Teresa asked. 

'No idea.' Thomas answered, picking up the pace. 

***

The wind was roaring when they finally caught up. Minho was the first to turn around. He smiled widely and everything felt okay again; Thomas didn't care what Teresa had done to him, about Aris neither- he was home. 

Minho crossed his arms smugly and nudged Newt who stood beside him. Newt turned around and his eyes widened when he saw Thomas, a big smile finding his face. "Tommy!" he yelled. 

Thomas ran to Newt before Newt had the chance and wrapped his arms around him. For a moment, standing there with a racing heart and a big smile with Newt wrapped in his arms, he wasn't worried or bothered about anything. Not Teresa, not the oncoming storm, not WICKED, not the safe haven. Newt was back in his arms and everything felt so right, so natural, when they were together. They'd get through anything. 

Newt looked up at him, his face dirty and eyes red from dirt stinging them. His hair whipped around with every angry gust of wind, but he was so beautiful. "You're okay?" Newt half-asked, half-shouted over the wind. 

"I'm just fine." Thomas answered fondly, not able to keep the love out of his voice. 

Newt nodded towards Harriet, "she explained everything." he said, then glared at Teresa and Aris. "Told us what those bloody traitors did to ya too." 

"They're with us," Thomas said, grabbing Newt's chin and making him look him in the eye. He wanted to stare into those eyes for a bit longer. "It's a long story."

Newt didn't look convinced, but the malice left his face completely when he found Thomas' eyes. Thomas leaned forward and kissed Newt deeply, and for a very long time. Who knows? They might've stayed that way forever, trapping themselves in a blissful eternity if Minho hadn't nudged him. Thomas pulled away, the feeling of Newt still on his lips and tongue. He was slightly annoyed to have been interrupted, but he supposed they didn't really have time for that now. 

"You might wanna see this," Minho said. 

Thomas looked at Newt quizzically, who just nodded with a somber look across his face. Thomas took Newt's hand and followed Minho as the leader led the way. Gladers and girls moved out of the way as they approached and Thomas saw what had everyone so transfixed; a simple stick poking out of the ground. An orange strip of ribbon was tied to it, flying in the wind.

Black letters were printed across the ribbon. 

THE SAFE HAVEN. 

 

 

Thomas' mind was spinning for an explanation. There had to be one. There had to be. He looked around at the Gladers, at Group B, at Newt. They couldn't die- surely, WICKED wouldn't just let them die. Not after everything. Not after they got this far. 

"We need to talk," Thomas said to Newt, dragging him off. 

Minho followed, and Thomas didn't mind. He just wasn't in the mood now for being around other people than them. They all sat around, since there was nothing left to do. So Thomas told them about everything; about the camp, his talk with Group B, the gas chamber. And surprisingly, he felt good telling someone- getting it off his chest. 

Newt and Minho obviously hated Teresa and Aris like there was no tomorrow. It didn't make Thomas upset- before, if they hadn't liked her, it would've ticked him off a bit, since she was a Glader, too. But now, it felt sorta nice knowing he wasn't the only one completely ticked off about it. 

They had nothing else to do so they talked for awhile, Newt sitting right up against Thomas, making Thomas feel calm despite the current situation. They had about thirty-five minutes left when Minho jumped to his feet. "What's that!?" he yelled, pointing to somewhere over Thomas' shoulder.

Thomas got up with Newt. Upon seeing what Minho was yelling about, Newt moved closer against Thomas, and Thomas wrapped one arm around him tightly, bringing him even closer. 

A large section of the desert ground was.... opening. A perfect square, just fifteen feet away. As it rose, it flipped. And what had once been desert ground was now a square of black material. On odd object sat on top of it; oblong and white with rounded edges. Several of them, actually. They'd seen this coffin like thing before- after they'd escaped the Maze and entered the huge chamber where the Grievers had come from, they'd seen these. It must've been where the Grievers stayed when they weren't roaming the Maze. 

Then more sections of the ground started changing, surrounding their group in a large circle. 

Dozens of them.


	33. Chapter Fifty-Eight/Fifty-Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter for my lovlies :3 My mom and I went shopping today x3

There was about thirty of those coffin-like pods when all was said and done. 

No one spoke. Nothing moved, no one moved, nothing happened- yet the only sound for a long while was that of the wind screaming around them. "You remember those, right?" Newt asked, his voice almost carried away by the storm. 

"Yeah." Was all Thomas said. 

"You think there're bloody Grievers inside?" 

Thomas realized he had been thinking that. He didn't respond, reasoning out the possibility of it actually being Grievers. "I don't know. I mean, Grievers had really moist bodies, wouldn't they just shrivel up and die here?" 

"Maybe... we go inside those things? To get to the safe haven?" Newt suggested, looking over at Thomas. 

Thomas nodded to himself, pulling Newt over to Minho and Teresa who had just arrived there. Harriet and Sonya soon made their way over, and the discussion began. Minho made sure Teresa didn't do much talking with his sideways glances and eye-rolls. They were just beginning to talk about getting inside those things when a sharp hiss cut them off. 

The coffins were opening. Everyone ended up packing in a tight group, all watching fearfully. The only thing inside, it seemed, was a dark blue light. But Thomas knew better than to assume that there was no danger. Thomas, Newt and Minho were going to go over there, when collective gasps sounded over the wind. Thomas whipped around, holding Newt's hand tightly, as he watched as something was... definitely coming out of it. But what it was had Thomas completely stumped. 

He watched for a moment or two, then it made sense. It was an arm; flopping over the side and trying to grab at the smooth exterior of its container. And it looked like it had lightbulbs glued to its arm. 

It took the creature some time, but it somehow managed to gain purchase and pull itself out. And all over it was scattered, glowing, orange spheres. It was roughly human shaped, but taller. The worst part about it was the face. No mouth, no nose, no eyes. 

Thomas realized that all the creatures had now managed to get out of their pods. They all swayed as they found their balance. They moaned, yet there was no mouth, and all Thomas could think about was how nice it would be to get Newt away from here- far, far away from these terrifying things. 

Minho wasted no time, he turned to everyone behind him and yelled; "There's about one for each of us! Grab a weapon and let's handle these suckers!" 

As if they heard the challenge, the creatures started moving forward. At first, their steps were haphazardly placed, but they righted themselves. And became quite agile. 

And were coming closer with every improving step. 

 

 

Teresa handed Thomas a long knife and held a short dagger and her spear. Thomas couldn't imagine where she'd gotten these, but she had them. Someone had handed Newt a knife as well. Tendrils of light cracked across the sky. And Thomas couldn't tell what terrified him more. 

One of the creatures was headed right for him. Suddenly, Newt pulled from his hand and Thomas watched as he went to fight his own, his heart dropping. Everyone, following Minho's orders, charged them. Anticipation, anxiety, fear and adrenaline pumped through Thomas as he sprinted forward. He worried about Newt and Minho Brenda- who hadn't even spoken to since coming back- and even Teresa. 

When Thomas reached the creature, he dropped to a slide on his knees and channeled everything he had- swinging his blade into the creatures leg. 

An inch. It went in an inch. 

The creature needed no time to retaliate and raised its bladed hand. Thomas quickly lunged out of the way, watching as the monster's blades cut the air where Thomas' head had been. Thomas looked around and saw Teresa, poking her monster with the butt of her spear. But the thing was... injured? 

Thomas went back to his own battle and stabbed at anywhere he could. He connected with one of the orange bulbs and it shattered with a pop.

And when the creature seemed pained, even if just for a moment, Thomas knew what she was doing. What he had to do. 

Thomas changed his method- jumping forward and backwards to pop the bulbs. And each time, the monster seemed slower, weaker. Thomas had almost finished when an earth-shattering sound that Thomas was all-too-familiar with sounded behind him. Invisible power knocked Thomas to the ground and he looked back, seeing the ground burnt and charred. 

A lightning strike. 

And they were falling from the clouds above, everywhere.


	34. Chapter Sixty/Sixty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM BACK MY POTATOES. Not writing makes me feel weird and makes me so worried I'm gonna lose you lovely people, so I am going to make sure that- even if I have to pull an all-nighter- I will update!!   
> But wow, we're almost done with Scorch Trials, can you believe it!? Then it's on to Death Cure! That's gonna be an interesting ride XD 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

The moment the first lightning bolt struck, they world became bathed in brilliant light. 

Jagged stripes of light cracked and crumpled to the earth, slamming into it with searing heat and awesome power. Thomas needed to do something- find Newt, protect him. He just got him back, he sure as hell wasn't losing him again. Thomas' eyes frantically searched around- Teresa was finishing off her foe, Minho was getting to his feet, Frypan was doubled over. Then he saw Newt, standing in place, looking around with panic in his eyes. 

Thomas ran to him and took his hand. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Newt's ear, even still, he had to yell. "We need to do something. Try something-- we've only got ten minutes." 

Newt was silent for a moment, then he craned his neck, holding Thomas' shoulder as he spoke into his ears. "Should we get in those pod-thingys?" 

Thomas liked the idea. He looked around, locking eye-contact with as many as he could before saying; "Let's do it. The others will figure it out." 

Then they locked hands and started running. Just as they reached the pods, Mother Nature challenged them- throwing down zig-zags of power all around them. "Hurry!" Thomas screamed, ears ringing. 

They both crawled inside and got on their knees, reaching for the lid to close it. Just as it was going to close, Jorge and Brenda ran up to them. "Get in!" Newt yelled, surprising Thomas. Brenda and Newt were okay and all, but there was always something that hung in the air around them. Though, this was life or death. 

The two climbed in, forcing Thomas to open his legs more so Newt could sit between them, Newt's back up against Thomas' chest. Once they were settled, they closed the pod-door. The madness of the raging storm outside was nothing more than a hollow thrumming inside the pod. "Thanks for letting us in, muchacho." Jorge said after the silence had settled for a bit. 

"Of course," Thomas replied.

"So is this our bloody safe haven?" Newt asked. 

"For now, I guess so." 

They waited as the minutes ticked by. Seven, five, three. Outside, the storm raged- a lightning bolt even struck the pod. And Thomas could only hope Minho and the others found a pod of their own. 

When they had only two minutes, a sound came from outside. Not a sound from the storm, something different. Low and thrumming and deep. It seemed to vibrate the very earth. "What is that?" Newt whispered, looking back at Thomas with fear in those eyes. 

"No idea," Thomas answered softly. 

The walls of the pod vibrated as it grew closer and louder and much more intense. They only had thirty seconds left, so they decided to look. And when they lifted the pod, Thomas froze, instinctively pulling Newt closer to him. A berg, that's what they called it, hovering, almost to the ground. No one said anything, not that Thomas heard anything, they were probably just as shocked. 

Them, the Berg touched down and a large, cargo door began opening. 

 

 

This was it and Thomas knew it, they all did. 

Thomas took Newt's hand, hard. "Come on!" he screamed, toppling over the slick pod. They stumbled, but righted themselves and started making a mad dash for it. 

As he sprinted, others flocking around him- Minho, some girls from Group B, Teresa, Harriet- everyone knew this was it. And even when the creatures were blocking the way, no one slowed and no one was afraid. Not anymore. Thomas released Newt's hand when was right in front of them and jumped into the air, both legs connecting with several of its bulbs. They broke. 

Thomas hit the mud hard and rolled, getting back on his feet immediately. He couldn't stop, he just couldn't. The Berg's thrusters ignited, and they all found a whole new burst of energy. 

He ended up running with Newt beside him and Minho on the other side of Newt. The both eyed him, making sure he didn't fall- the mud was making his limp harder on him. Thomas took his hand and despite everything, he felt okay. 

Then the Berg began rising. 

The first couple people easily dove and rolled into it. Thomas reached it, let go of Newt, and jumped. He made it and pushed his hands against it, pushing himself in. He looked back, Newt was half way on, trying to find a handhold. Thomas dove forward and grabbed his hand, yanking him. Newt ended up on top of him, heaving and trembling. Their eyes found each other and exchanged a look of victory, even a small kiss. And if they had been anywhere else, in any other situation, he would've held Newt there and just laid there in bliss. 

But he didn't. They pulled away quickly and got up, rushing to the edge to see if anyone else needed help. They all had it pretty well, but Brenda was only holding on with her hands, her legs kicking in a panic. 

Thomas dropped to his stomach and grabbed one of her hands, Newt doing the same. When they pulled on Brenda, then began slipping along the slick metal of the Berg. They abruptly stopped, and Newt and Thomas looked over their shoulders seeing Jorge, planted firmly, holding them both still. Between Thomas and Newt, they had no troubles pulling Brenda up. 

Thomas looked out over the edge once she was safe- no humans left out there. Well, no live ones. And no one Thomas knew. Just those dead creatures and just a few dead people-- no one Thomas knew though. 

The relief was insane.

Thomas and Newt headed away from the edge, Newt's limp very bad from all that, but he didn't seem pained. Thomas looked at Newt and Newt looked at him and then it was instantaneous- Newt jumping up and throwing his arms around Thomas' shoulders, their lips crashing together with such passion and force it almost knocked Thomas right on his ass. But he stayed up and he held Newt and their hearts soared higher than ever. 

"Who are these two people?" 

Then they were forced out of their love-fest. Thomas whipped around and saw a man holding a pistol pointed at Brenda and Jorge. "They helped us get through the city," Thomas spoke up, shocked at the strength in his voice. "We'd be dead if it wasn't for them." 

The man seemed to consider, but was enraged. "We didn't say you could pick up citizens along the way," he said thoughtfully, "but fine. You can have one. The other dies. You've got five seconds or I'm shooting them both." 

Thomas' mind raced as the man began counting. This was a trick, a mind game. He knew what he had to do: "Kill her." 

Thomas thought he knew what would happen. He thought it was a mind game; that they'd both live and they'd just take away whoever he didn't choose. But he was wrong. The man grabbed her and started toward the open Berg door, dragging her effortlessly with him.


	35. Chapter Sixty-Two/Sixty-Three/Sixty-Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update for my lovliest lovlies!! My friend wants to borrow Scorch Trials, so I am trying to finish it all tonight!!! 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Thomas didn't wait. 

Thomas lunged forward, slamming into the man's knees. Thomas tackled him to the floor, the man's gun clattering to the floor. Brenda stumbled towards the edge, but Newt was there just in time to catch her from the danger of the edge and the harsh, gruesome death waiting below. Thomas kept the man pinned while he blindly reached for the pistol. Once Thomas' fingers brushed against the cool metal, he waited until he got a good hold on it, then jumped back- pointing it at the man. 

"No one dies," Thomas said, anger and pain fighting somewhere in his heart. "No more of my friends die." 

The stranger's face softened considerably and Thomas could've sworn that look was supposed to be a smile. The man scooted backwards, and as he did, the door to the Berg began closing. No one said a word until it had completely closed. And when it did, it was the man who spoke. "My name's David." he said. "And you passed. It's over, it's all over." 

"Yeah, we've heard that before." Thomas snapped as the man began slowly standing. 

"No," the man said, "I'm serious. The Trials are over, I promise, no more lies and no more pretend. And I can promise you that, once you hear why we did all this to you, you'll understand." 

Minho snorted. "That's the biggest pile of klunk I've heard in my life." 

Thomas couldn't agree more. Nothing would justify killing his friends, putting them all through this hell. "And what about the cure?" Thomas snapped. "For us and for the two who helped us here." 

"Things are going to change from here. You will understand, and you will get the cure, just as soon as we get back. You can keep that gun, and if you'd like, we'll give you more. There's nothing left for you to fight against. Once we land, you are all free. The only thing we'll ever ask of you again is that you listen." 

Thomas tried to fight it, but something blossomed in his chest. The thought of a life, a free and maybe even remotely normal one, with Newt. It felt too good to be true. David seemed to notice and smiled, motioning towards a door at the back of the room. "Shall we?" 

"What's next on the bloody agenda?" Newt snapped, holding a handful of Thomas' shirt at his side. 

"Just thought you'd like a shower. Some warm food, fresh clothes? Some sleep, too. It's a long flight." David said. 

All the Gladers and the girls glanced around, Thomas included, all of them exchanging glances. But in the end, Thomas tucked the gun in his waist band and took Newt's hand. And they followed. 

 

 

Thomas was afraid that it was happening again, that they were being put through a false sense of security. But it was so hard to think like that when Newt and him spent an hour and a half in a hot shower, sat right up against each other as they were served hot food and cold drinks, and laid around beside and on top of each other in fresh clothes, bandaged wounds and on-and-off sleep. 

Newt was draped on top of Thomas as they lay on a rather comfortable couch in a room full of tons of furniture. His eyes were already starting to close. "How ya feelin'?" 

"Good," Thomas admitted. "Pretty damn good." 

"I feel good, too." Newt slurred, and with that, he was asleep. 

Thomas pulled the blanket up and tucked it in tight around Newt, copying what Brenda had done for Minho- who lay sleeping on a couch not far, tucked in tight in his blanket like a child. Thomas couldn't keep his eyes off Newt. Newt was beautiful in the Scorch- dirty, wind-swept hair, dry skin, red eyes, chapped lips- and now, that his skin was soft and clean and a pleasant smell came from him, his hair brushed neatly placed, he was stunning. He seemed inhuman, like a god, like Thomas- just a mere human- shouldn't be allowed to lay eyes on him, much less hands.

But Thomas was one lucky son of a bitch, and he knew it. 

With the calm atmosphere, and seemingly safe feel, Thomas couldn't help but slipping away into sleep as well. 

 

Thomas awoke to pure white. 

He panicked, but then assured himself it was a dream. It had to be. He could feel, his body and his breathing. But it had to be a dream, he was surrounded in seamless white, after all. 

'Tom?' 

Her voice. 

'Hey,' he responded. 

'Are you... okay?' he could feel her, could feel that she was troubled. 

'Yeah? I'm fine. Why?' 

'I just thought you'd be... A little... Confused right now. Surprised, maybe.' 

Then Thomas became confused. 'What are you talking about?' 

'You'll understand more very soon.' 

Then he realized. This wasn't Teresa. The voice was off, something was wrong hear. Fear set in like poison and he thought he was going to be sick. 'Tom?' 

He didn't answer. He was too afraid. 

'Tom?' 

'Who... Who are you?' he finally asked. 

'It's me, Tom. It's Brenda. Things are about to get bad for you.' 

Thomas screamed. He screamed and he screamed and he screamed until he woke himself up.


	36. Chapter Sixty-Five/Sixty-Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There has been something in my eye for the longest time and it's killing me. 
> 
> Anyway XD LAST UPDATE OF SCORCH TRIALS, AAAAH!!!! Crazy, right? It feels like just last week we started it, and now we're done. Now we're on our way to Death Cure, that's nutty. I love you guys so much and thank you for all the support despite my busyness and all the nice comments and kudos and hits, and I just love you guys more than I could ever tell you :) I'll be starting Death Cure after Knowledge Bowl practice tomorrow. See ya guys next time!! 
> 
> ***I DO NOT own Scorch Trials or any of the characters!***

Thomas shot up, sweating. 

Everything started coming to him-- his surroundings. He was alone, laying in a room. He'd been... taken from where he was. From Newt. Worry pierced him all over in little pinpricks. What about Newt? What did they do to him? 

Thomas forced himself to calm down, he wouldn't be able to save Newt or himself unless he did that. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was in an all white room. White walls, white ceiling, white floor. The walls were padded and the floor underneath him was just spongy enough to be comfortable. The place smelled clean, like soap. He looked down at his new clothes; white T-Shirt, cotton pants, and socks. 

The only thing with any color in the place was a brown desk about a dozen feet in front of him, across the small room. Behind the desk was a door padded like the walls. He thought about banging on it or trying to escape, but he knew it had to be locked. And he knew no one would listen. WICKED had screwed him over another damn time. 

All he could do was try to escape, to fight tooth-and-nail and do whatever possible to escape when the time came. Just knowing he had that plan to stick to, he felt surprisingly better. 

'Teresa?' he called out. 

No one responded. Not Teresa, not Aris and not... Brenda. 

That dream floated up to his mind. Brenda had spoken to him? Thinking about it now, it was certainly her voice. But it wasn't real, it couldn't have been. It had to have been just a dream, probably drug-induced. It had to be, had to. Brenda wouldn't lie to him... Not Brenda. 

Thomas tried again, calling to Teresa, but she didn't answer. So he got up and walked around, stretched his legs. He ran into an invisible barrier though when he reached the table and door. Figures. 

He wandered around for a bit then back to his corner. He waited for a bit longer to see if anyone would answer him or show up, but when they didn't, he just closed his eyes. He kept the panic and fear down and thought warm thoughts; Newt. 

He drifted to sleep. 

***

'Tom? Tom!' 

Thomas wasn't sure how many times she'd said it before he woke up, but he responded quickly. 'Teresa? Where are you?' 

'They put us in another dormitory after the Berg landed. We've been sitting around here for a few days doing nothing. Tom, what happened to you?' 

'A few days? What-' 

'They took you as soon as we landed. They keep telling us it's too late, that the Flare's gotten to you- that you're violent and crazy.' 

'Teresa... It's just a part of the Trials. They've got me locked in a white room. But... You've been there for days? How many?' 

'Tom. It's almost been a week.' 

Thomas was shocked. Something told him she was lying. Though, he felt that every time they talked. He wanted to ask about Newt, but he didn't want to hear what she had to say. He couldn't trust her, she was probably helping WICKED. 'Teresa. I need to tell you something and you need to listen.' 

'Um... Okay.' 

'Teresa. Go away.' 

'Tom-' 

'No, don't say another word. Just leave me alone... and tell WICKED I'm done playing their games. I'm done!' 

She paused. 'Okay.' she paused again. 'Okay. But I have one more thing to tell you.' 

'Okay.' 

She didn't speak for a long time, and Thomas almost thought she was gone. 'Tom?' 

'What?' 

'WICKED is good.' 

And then she was gone.


End file.
